


A Stark Is Born

by PS_NoThanks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-10-28 15:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PS_NoThanks/pseuds/PS_NoThanks
Summary: NOTE: This work has been heavily edited. I'm so sorry to anyone who had to read it before.~~~Tony didn’t go out every night.He had responsibilities, a company to run, technological marvels to build, and most of the time, he took on those responsibilities without complaint. Despite what some tabloids may have the general public believe, he was not a wild, partygoing, man-child with far too much money to spend on his every desire… most of the time.Some days he just needed to shrug off the weight that came with heading a billion dollar company, so sue him. He was allowed to relax every now and again, and when he did, well, he really relaxed.And so, on The Night That Changed Everything, he hadn’t been looking for anything other than a couple of glasses (or bottles) of excellent whisky, and maybe a companion or two with whom he could spend the night.In the end, what he had received as a result of The Night That Changed Everything was so much better.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the fic I mentioned on 'Field Trips and (Overly Dramatic) Father Figures'. It's alright, I think. I'm not very happy with the middle of it but I don't think I'll be able to make it any better.  
I'm so tired right now and I don't even know why.  
Anyway, I hope you have fun reading!  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo the chapter notes got deleted when I edited this and I can't remember what I said.  
Uh... hope you guys like it?  
This is the longest chap in the entire fic I think. A lot happens so pay attention.

January 2001

Tony didn’t go out  _ every _ night.

He had responsibilities, a company to run, technological marvels to build, and  _ most of the time _ , he took on those responsibilities without complaint. Despite what some tabloids may have the general public believe, he was not a wild, partygoing, man-child with far too much money to spend on his every desire… most of the time.

Some days he just needed to shrug off the weight that came with heading a billion dollar company, so sue him. He was allowed to relax every now and again, and when he did, well, he  _ really _ relaxed.

And so, on The Night That Changed Everything, he hadn’t been looking for anything other than a couple of glasses (or bottles) of excellent whisky, and maybe a companion or two with whom he could spend the night.

In the end, what he had received as a result of The Night That Changed Everything was much better.

~~~

Happy was unhappy with him (Tony had laughed at the irony in that statement for a solid five minutes on the drive down to the bar). He knew, because he could feel the driver’s disdain from where he was reclined in the backseat. 

Happy wasn’t the only one who was grumpy with him though. Pepper was mad, Rhodey was mad, hell, even Obie was mad.

According to them, he was “drinking his life away” and a “borderline alcoholic”. Personally, he preferred the term “alcohol aficionado”, but Pepper, Rhodey, and Obie hadn’t been impressed when he told them that.

And yes, just maybe, if the four people in his life that he actually cared about were unanimously telling him the same thing, there might be a small problem. But the fact of the matter was that Tony just didn’t want to deal with the problem.

He was happy with his life. With his little cycle of drink, no sleep, lab, repeat. It wasn’t healthy, and in the one session that he’d been able to tolerate with the therapist that Rhodey had forced upon him, she suggested that they were coping mechanisms, but Tony had brushed that idea off just as quickly as the woman had suggested it.

He didn’t have anything to cope with. Sure, his dad had hated the very air he breathed, and yeah, both of his parents were dead and he’d probably spend the rest of his days withering away in a mansion, but that was nothing. He was fine.

But still, there was the persisting feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the way he lived. Something was missing, but he didn’t know what, and it bugged him to no end.

Ugh, this was why he’d asked Happy to bring him to the bar. He was desperate for a drink.

“I’m going to park round back, okay? Don’t trash the place until I get back,” Happy said, only half joking. Tony rolled his eyes as he got out of the car.  _ One time _ . He’d only trashed a bar  _ one time _ . Plus those other three times. And then there were those other two. Okay, six times, but still. He was living life in the fast lane and all that jazz. 

Tony shook his head, focusing instead on his desperate need to get blackout drunk. The bartender. Yes the bartender could help with that.

And help they did, because soon Tony was perched on a stool, sucking down a glass of the finest whisky this place had to offer, and surveying the bar as he ignored the burn in the back of his throat from the amber liquid.

There were a fair few creepy, old men eyeing a group of young, pretty women who looked like they were having the time of their lives. Tony made sure to give the freaky men a satisfactory glare before shifting his gaze to a group of rowdy teens who couldn’t have been over seventeen. He wasn’t one to judge though, having done the exact same thing when he was that age. 

And as his eyes travelled around the dimly lit bar, he saw  _ her _ , the main contributor (apart from himself. He’d say he helped a fair bit) to The Night That Changed Everything. She was perched on a stool in the corner of the room, her curly hair brushing her shoulders as she leaned down to take a sip of what looked like a gin and tonic. Her make-up was smudged and her glittery dress was slightly rumpled, shedding sparkly flakes everytime she shifted in her seat. But she was gorgeous, so, naturally, Tony swaggered towards her, and that was the beginning of The Night That Changed Everything.

He found out that her name was Mary Parker, and that she and her husband were on a ‘break’. She was a biologist - he’d actually read one of her papers once, and had been intrigued by the science behind it. Intrigued enough to dig a little deeper, but he’d lost interest eventually - machines were more his thing. 

She lived in Queens, New York, but was in Malibu for a work conference.  _ A stroke of luck if I’ve ever seen one _ , Tony thought, because Mary was smart, really smart, drop-dead gorgeous and practically single, which was exactly his type. 

Before he knew it, they were both drunk out of their minds and on their way back to his mansion, tangled up on the plush leather of the backseat in Tony’s car, the divider having been firmly, and pointedly, shut by Happy. 

They wasted no time once they crossed the threshold of the mansion, and they’d giggled and stumbled their way down the hall, shedding items of clothing like loose skin as they went. 

She’d pushed him down onto his king-sized bed, and that had been that. 

When he’d woken up the next morning, butt-naked and wrapped in his silk sheets, the bed was cold and Mary Parker was gone. 

Tony had searched the house, still half-asleep, in his boxers, encountering a disgruntled Happy and a very flustered Pepper, but no Mary Parker. 

When he’d finally woken up enough to use his big genius brain, and asked JARVIS where she’d gone, the AI had informed him that she’d left thirty-seven minutes after Tony had fallen asleep early that morning. 

He passed it off as a one-night stand, which was fine. He’d bailed on a fair few of those himself, and he tried his hardest to push Mary out of his mind. It even worked, for a while. 

Time marched on. 

Tony designed and manufactured more and more weapons. 

And time marched on.

He attended those dumb board meetings with stuffy old men and uncomfortable chairs. 

And time marched on. 

He forgot about Mary, and that entire night. Most of it was a blur anyway. 

And time marched on.

~~~

August 10th 2001

Eight months later, and his brain was almost Mary-free. Her face only sprung into his mind when his gaze found a shade of green that matched her eyes exactly, or he came across a particularly clever paper about the intricacies of biology. Eight months later, and he could barely remember the woman from The Night That Changed Everything.

But soon enough, The Day That Changed Everything rolled around, and he just so happened to be sitting in yet another board meeting, Obie on his right, Pepper on his left, like two guards keeping an eye on a prisoner in case he tried to flee.

Tony sure felt like a prisoner as he listened to the old men drone on and on and on about how the stocks of the company had risen by a couple of points last night, and the different marketing techniques that they could use to make them go even higher.

He wondered if he had done something truly terrible in a past life. He must have, if he was going to be forced to endure even a second more of Mr I-Only-Speak-In-Monotone and his merry band of morons.

Pepper dug her pointy elbow into his ribs, and Tony jerked out of his trance, realising all too late that he hadn’t been listening to the past twenty minutes of Mr Monotones pitch. 

He panicked for a moment, wondering if that was the reason she had decided to poke him with her bony extremity, but then he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and noticed that it was also vibrating the seat. Very loudly. 

Mr Monotone was looking pointedly at him, and Tony struggled not to roll his eyes at the man while he declined the call, barely glancing at the number. Mr Monotone looked sufficiently satiated, and continued talking for another minute before Tony’s phone went off again. He took the time to look at the screen properly, and saw that it was the same number as before, calling him for a second time. Was something going on? 

Well, now was as good a time as any to find out, so he stood up, clocking a raised eyebrow from Pepper and an irritated look from Obie, before walking out of the conference room. “I’ll be back soon… probably.” 

Tony hadn’t seen the number before, so he assumed it was just a misdial, but… how often did the same misdial-er call twice in a row? Nevertheless, he answered the call gruffly. “Stark speaking.”

“Um, so sorry to bother you, Mr Stark, sir, but this is New-York Presbytarian calling,” a timid, female voice said on the other end. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. Why was a hospital in New York calling him? The city was literally on the other side of the country.

“What do you want?” he snapped, the rudeness unnecessary, but he was shaken. Hospitals weren’t his thing - they hadn’t been since he’d entered one on a cold December night to identify the corpses of his mother and father.

“Mr Stark, you have - uh, there’s a… I’ll let Doctor Estrada explain everything, shall I?” there was a lot of shuffling and some quiet conversation which Tony couldn’t quite make out, before another woman’s voice filtered through the speakers, more matter-of-fact than the last.

“Tony Stark?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”   


“This is a very sensitive situation, sir. I ask that you treat it as such.” God, her chastising tone reminded him so much of Pepper.

“Will you quit the stalling? What situation are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Do you know someone by the name of Mary Parker?” the doctor sighed, sounding tired and drawn. Well, that name was like a slap to the face, and Tony sucked in a sharp breath. His lungs were struggling to function. Was it the shock? Could shock do that to someone?

He finally managed to force a normal breath, but his words were strangled nonetheless. “Ah, yes, yes I do. Is she… there? Is she hurt?”

“Mr Stark… Ms Parker arrived here in a taxi early this morning. She was in child labour, but there were several complications during the process. Ms Parker died three minutes after the child was born,” Doctor Estrada said, delivering the news professionally, with just the right amount of sympathy in her tone. Tony had the feeling she’d said things this before, to many other people, and it just made his lungs contract further. 

“W-why are you telling me this?” he stammered, though the answer was drumming itself into his chest with each beat of his overactive heart.  _ Yours _ . _ Yours _ . _ Yours _ .

And then Doctor Estrada delivered the final blow. “The child is yours, Mr Stark, according to Ms Parker. She was in a lot of pain, but she seemed to be certain of that, at least.”  
Tony couldn’t breathe, _he_ _couldn’t breathe_. A kid? He had a kid? His own flesh and blood was floating around somewhere in New York.

_ Oh God _ .

“Mr Stark? Mr Stark, I’m going to ask that you calm down, sir. Breathing is rather important for one’s survival,” Doctor Estrada said, and Tony snorted a wheezing breath at her dry humour. 

“Is there… does the kid have anyone else?”

“No, we don’t think so. Ms Parker’s husband died in a plane crash three months ago. Mr Parker has a brother and a sister-in-law, but as Mr Parker is not the child’s father, they aren’t his blood relatives.”   


“So, so what will happen?” Tony asked, voice trembling slightly. He felt like someone had just taken a baseball bat to his gut, effectively knocking the wind out of him. This kid had so much bad luck it wasn’t funny, and he hadn’t even been alive for a full day yet.

“There are two options in this situation. The child could go into the system, in which case you could choose whether or not you want to remain anonymous. Alternatively, the child has a father who is perfectly capable of taking him in,” Doctor Estrada said, the hint in her voice not at all subtle.

Tony’s breath hitched, and there was a foreign burning behind his eyes. This lady, this crazy woman, was suggesting that he, Tony Stark, a world-renowned playboy and party animal, take custody of an infant child. Was she  _ insane _ ? He couldn’t look after a baby! Those things were like glass, so, so breakable, and he could barely remember to feed himself, let alone a whole other being. 

And yet.

And yet, and yet,  _ and yet _ .

He couldn’t help the lurch of protectiveness in his chest when Doctor Estrada talked about putting his kid into the system.

“What? Me?” he asked, the question strangled in his throat.

“You’ll be surprised how fatherhood can change people, Mr Stark.” When Tony remained silent, she continued. “Of course, before anything is made official, we’ll have to perform a paternity test, just to ascertain whether Ms Parker was telling the truth. I’m sure you understand.”

And Tony hadn’t even  _ considered _ that. Of course, this whole thing could be fake - a pregnancy scam. He’d certainly encountered a fair few desperate women who’d tried to claim that the child in their womb was a product of a steamy night that they’d shared.

But something was different about this time, Tony knew, he could feel it somewhere deep in his gut. He’d never been called by a doctor before about this kind of thing. It was always a lawyer, or the woman herself, because hospitals were ridiculously thorough and could smell a pregnancy scam from miles away, and no one had ever offered a paternity test before, he’d always had to request one be performed. And of course, there was the big kicker: Mary Parker was dead, so she didn’t have a reason for falsely claiming to be the mother of Tony Stark’s child. There would be no big payoff, and even if there was, she’d have no way to collect it.

Either the woman on the phone with him was an incredibly good actress, or he really did have a child.

It was in that moment that Tony made The Snap Decision That Changed Everything. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Have a paternity test ready.”   
Tony could hear the smile in Doctor Estrada’s voice. “That’s fantastic, Mr Stark. I must warn you though, your son was born a month prematurely, and is currently being kept in the NICU. He seems to be healthy enough, but it is procedure to monitor all premature babies until we can be certain that their lungs can function well enough to support their bodies. Don’t worry though, he’s strong. We’ll see you soon.”   
And then the woman had the audacity to  _ hang up on him _ . After reducing his life to nothing more than signed pieces of things that he once knew.

But then the reality of her words hit him, two things drilling themselves into his brain, one after the other.

The first was that Doctor Estrada had said “your son”. He had a  _ son _ . A mini-him, existing and very real. God, was the world even ready for a second Tony Stark? He really hoped the kid had been blessed with his good looks and absolutely none of his personality. 

And the second thing was that his son, the mini-him, was in the NICU, born an entire month premature, and struggling to breathe.

At the moment, Tony could relate. He slid down the wall, clutching his chest, until he was crouched at the base with his knees folded in towards himself. He had a  _ son _ .

After taking a few moments to collect himself, Tony burst back into the conference room where Pepper and Obadiah were trying to flatter Mr Monotone into not being mad that Tony had completely ditched them.

He winced, he’d be getting a strong talking-to later for that from either Pepper or Obie, maybe both.

“Tony! What do you think you’re doing-” Obie began heatedly, but Tony cut him off with a half-hearted wave in his direction. His mind was slipping into business-mode, and he was already running through everything he needed to do in order to see his son as fast as humanly possible.

“Ms Potts, you’re with me. Get my jet ready and tell the pilot to set the course for New York,” Tony ordered, already turning around to walk back out the door as Pepper gathered her things, confusion making her movements a little slower than usual. “Ya know what? Call Rhodey too, he’ll want to be here for this. Have him meet me at whichever airport is closest to his current location. Malibu or New York, I don’t care.” Pepper nodded, already pulling out her phone, and in that moment, Tony had never been more thankful for her. The way she could sense the urgency in the air and did as he asked without once questioning why, despite the fact that his requests were beyond bizarre.

He paused in the doorway of the conference room. “So sorry about this whole thing gentlemen, but I’m having a personal emergency. Maybe we can reschedule?” Tony called, knowing full well that these guys would probably never want to see him again. He wasn’t really complaining though, Mr Monotone made him want to bang his head against a wall. “Obie, I’ll call you later,” he said, smiling at the fuming older man, before sweeping out of the room with Pepper right behind him, her heels clicking loudly against the polished floor. 

Happy met them out the front of the large skyscraper that had been Tony’s prison for the last two hours, and he silently thanked Pepper for thinking about how they’d actually get to the airport, and calling Happy. It had completely slipped his addled mind, and he added it to the list of reasons he should not be a father. It was a long one, but he still climbed into the car, despite knowing that it would take him to see his son. 

Tony wondered if it was selfish, his desperate need to save baby Stark from the foster care system. The kid would probably be better off without him as a father. Tony Stark was wild, he was partying and drinking and irresponsible decisions, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. He wasn’t father material.

But there was a flutter in his heart at the thought of a little being, his companion in the large, lonely mansion on top of the hill. 

Maybe it was selfish, to want this child as much as he did, but Tony Stark was a selfish man. 

A few minutes of tense silence passed, before Pepper broke. “Would you mind telling me what the  _ hell _ is going on, Tony?”

“Do you remember Mary Parker?”

“What?” Pepper asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion as she struggled to put a face to the name.

“ _ Mary Parker _ .”   


“Was she one of your… nighttime companions?” Pepper asked, looking a little bit disgusted. She never had approved of  _ gallivanting _ , as she put it.

“Yes, she was, but I just got a call from New-York Presbytarian saying that she recently gave birth to my son.”

“What, another pregnancy claim?” Pepper sighed, rubbing her temples. “No offence, Tony, but these aren’t exactly a rarity with you, and they’re always fake.”

“No, no it’s different this time. The whole thing is different,” Tony insisted, shaking his head, as if to dispel all of the doubt that Pepper was casting on the little image he had in his mind, of himself, looking happier than he ever had before, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms.

“How do you know that, Tony? She’s probably just trying to get herself a nice, tidy sum.”   


“No, she isn’t. It’s different, I swear.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know that? This has happened before-”

“It’s different because she’s  _ dead _ ,” Tony snarled, perhaps a little too harshly. 

Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise, and she sucked in a small, shaky breath. “Oh.” She sat there for a few minutes, fidgeting minutely, which was strange. Pepper wasn’t a fidgeter, that was Tony’s job. Pepper was cool-headed and smooth, no matter what the situation was. She glanced up at him. “So… what are you going to do?”

Tony just looked at her, and her eyes darkened. The woman had been working for him for  _ years _ , and could read every expression on his face easily by now.

“ _ No _ , Tony, are you seriously thinking about raising a child? You don’t even know how to look after yourself, let alone a baby that’s completely dependent on you!”

“Believe me, Pepper, I am well aware of that, but… I can’t just let him go into the system either. I don’t want his only adult role models to be two losers who’re only in the child-rearing business for the paycheck!”

“Him,” Pepper said softly, a small smile on her face. “You have a son?”   


Tony deflated a little. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And you're sure he’s yours?”   


“Almost one-hundred percent. They’re going to be giving me a paternity test when I get there, just to be certain.”

“Oh, Mr Stark, you’re really doing this,” Pepper said, and he could practically see her questioning his sanity.

But see, he  _ knew _ he was crazy. He knew that the decision he was making right now was not one that any sane person in his situation would ever consider, and even now, he was second-guessing himself with each minute that passed.

Could he look after an actual child - a living, breathing human being that required constant attention and had very specific needs? Was he capable of being better at parenting than his own father?

Well, hopefully.

But what he did know for sure was that he wanted this child, his son, more than anything, so he barely hesitated before locking his jaw and nodding resolutely at Pepper. She must have seen the determination, the absolute devotion, in his eyes, because she seemed to relent.

“Tony Stark’s going to be a daddy,” she whispered, causing both herself and the billionaire to smile.

~~~

They arrived at the airport, greeting a confused and slightly pissed off Rhodey, boarding the plane and taking off within the span of ten minutes. Oh how Tony loved having his own private jet - public airlines were a nightmare he never wanted to experience again. 

After seating himself in a comfy chair and ordering a cheeseburger from the singular flight attendant, he brought the Colonel up to speed on the situation, and just why he’d been dragged out of a semi-important meeting with a few low-level Air Force operatives. 

By the end of the explanation, Rhodey’s expression had changed several times, ranging from fed-up with Tony and all of his shit (“you knocked someone up? Tony!”), to surprised, and then finally coming to a stop on happiness. 

“I’m gonna be an  _ uncle _ ,” Rhodey said, as his way of letting Tony know that he accepted and supported his best friend’s (slightly crazy) decision. 

“Probably,” the billionaire added, still painfully aware of the small possibility that this whole thing might be an elaborately constructed sham. Or that his son might die before he can ever meet his father - Tony had done way too much research on premature babies during the drive, and had effectively terrified himself out of his mind. “Uncle Platypus, it has a nice ring to it.”

He barely managed to dodge the pillow aimed directly at his face by the other man.

The entire flight took five hours, and Tony, exhausted from the day’s shocking revelations (and the forty-eight hour period he had gone without sleep beforehand), fell asleep about two of those hours in. 

Just a little while before he conked out completely, he heard low murmuring and he, being the nosy person he was, tuned in to the conversation.

“I’m still struggling to process it.  _ Tony Stark _ has a kid, and he’s not recoiling at the idea,” Rhodey said. “I’ve known that man for sixteen years, and he’s always insisted that children were over exuberant balls of snot and terrible drawing skills.”

“I think he’s… excited about it. I could see it in his eyes. But it’s the most adorable thing, and maybe this will finally teach him some of that much-needed responsibility that Mr Stane is always going on about,” Pepper said, and Tony had to repress a shudder at the barely-held-back “awww” in her tone. He was not  _ cute _ ! 

“I’m the weirdest mix of excited and terrified and right now. I’m gonna be an  _ uncle _ , but dear  _ God _ . Can you imagine a mini Tony Stark running around? There’s no way he’ll get his mother’s temperament - Tony’s genes are way too stubborn to let Ms Parker’s do anything,” Rhodey chuckled, and Tony couldn’t help but agree with him. A mini-him would be… an experience, to say the least. 

Before he could hear anymore of their whispered conversation, Tony gave in to the lull of sleep.

~~~

They touched down in New York and Tony was up and running off the plane before Rhodey and Pepper could blink. He hailed a cab and plonked himself down in the backseat, waiting impatiently for the other two to catch up. As soon as they were comfortably situated, Pepper sitting next to him in the back, Rhodey in the front Tony was tersely ordering the driver to go, oblivious to both Pepper and Rhodey as they apologised profusely to the driver for his undoubtedly rude tone. He was too busy bouncing in his seat like a restless toddler to be  _ polite _ . He had a son to meet. 

The traffic was terrible, but that was expected. Why did his kid have to be born in the city renowned for its congestion on the roads? It would almost be faster to get out and  _ run _ to the hospital.

Tony’s leg jiggled nervously for half the ride, before Pepper placed a calming hand on his knee. The jiggling slowed, but the movement itself did not stop. Instead, it progressed to his hands, where he tapped out a jerky rhythm onto his forearm for the rest of the drive. 

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this strongly about anything. There were so many emotions swirling around his brain; happiness, excitement, disbelief, self-doubt. He usually just numbed it all with a drink or two (or five), but he needed to stay sober right now. In fact, he’d probably have to stay sober for at least the next eighteen years, and eat at regular intervals, and sleep at normal times. 

Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know if the kid was his yet and he was already committing to changing his entire routine for the little guy. If the kid  _ was _ his though, well, he could imagine that there’d be nothing he wouldn’t be willing to change for him.

After a long,  _ long _ car ride, the driver pulled up in front of the hospital, and Tony didn’t hesitate to jump out, stopping only to shove a few hundred dollar bills into the man’s face and ignore his spluttered “thank you”, before he was off again, striding towards the doors as Pepper and Rhodey trailed behind him. 

Once he was inside, a part of Tony’s mind screamed at him to sprint through the hospital and not stop until he found his son, and the other part was telling him to run right out of the doors he’d just come through and never return. 

He pushed both of those thoughts away, concentrating on behaving like a proper human and finding the doctor that had contacted him. He was  _ Tony Stark _ , and he was in public. The media could be anywhere, which meant he had to act like there wasn’t any intense emotional turmoil going on inside of him. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Tony wasted no time in hurrying towards reception, ignoring the other people in the waiting room, who were staring at him with open mouths and wide eyes. This was already a PR disaster and a half - Obie would be  _ so mad _ \- but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to focus on that right now. 

The young woman manning the desk glanced up at him, blue eyes widening as she did a double take, and then a triple take, finally realising that yes, it really was Tony Stark standing in front of her. He really should have remembered to bring a pair of sunglasses. 

Almost as soon as the thought ran through his mind, Pepper materialised at his elbow, handing him a pair of blue-tinted aviators. He took them wordlessly, flashing her a grateful smile, before slipping them on his face and returning his gaze to the receptionist.

The badge pinned to her black blouse informed him that her name was Charlotte. Tony put on his press smile (polite but keeping a tight lock on his true emotions and intentions) and leaned nonchalantly on the bench. 

“Hey, Charlotte, is it?” he asked, pausing and waiting for her hesitant nod. “Yeah, I’m here to see Doctor Estrada, and I'm on a bit of a tight schedule, but you can make it happen quick smart for me, can’t you?”

The girl nodded again before picking up the clunky phone on her desk, dialing a number and shooting a few words down the line that Tony couldn’t be bothered to listen to, before putting the pitiful excuse for a device down and looking back up at him. 

“Doctor Estrada will be down soon. You’re welcome to take a seat over there while you wait,” she said pleasantly, gesturing towards a row of seats along one wall. Tony gave her a quick nod of thanks before wandering over to chairs - they were covered in an awful, teal-coloured plastic that looked like the kind of thing that would suction-cup itself to his thighs if it were just a few degrees warmer. 

He was too nervous to sit down anyway, and resorted to pacing up and down fretfully while Rhodey and Pepper watched from their uncomfortable seats, not even trying to stop him. They knew that fidgeting was one of the few healthy ways he had to deal with stress.

Minutes passed, or they could have been hours, Tony had no concept of time anymore, and eventually, the matter-of-fact voice that had ripped his life to shreds over the phone was back, except this time she was right behind him. 

“Mr Stark?”

He jerked around, to find a no-nonsense woman staring at him, her dark eyes a mixture of concerned and professional. Tony started towards her, his steps uncoordinated and stiff, not even paying attention to whether or not Rhodey and Pepper were following. 

Doctor Estrada shook his hand, her firm grip grounding enough to tether Tony’s mind to his body for a little longer. She turned to introduce herself to his companions, and then led them through a few bland corridors, decorated only with hotel-style art hung every few meters on the seemingly endless stretch of wall. Tony’s eyes were fixed on her hair, which was pulled into a neat, low ponytail. A few of the black strands were sticking out at odd angles, and they contrasted starkly with her white lab coat.

Eventually, the group reached an unremarkable door. Judging by the plaque on it that read ‘Dr. Emilia Estrada’, Tony gathered that it was the Doctor’s office, and his guess was proved to be correct when she pushed the door open. 

Pepper and Rhodey took the chairs next to Doctor Estrada’s desk, and Tony, being the child he was, swung himself up onto the examination bed, grinning at the loud noise that the crinkly paper made when he settled his weight on it. 

There was a heavy silence for a moment, punctuated by the occasional sounds of Tony shifting on the bed, before Doctor Estrada cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Right, well, I suppose I'll cut right to the chase. I need a swab from the inside of your cheek for the paternity test, and we’ll be able to get the results back to you within a few hours given your son’s status as a…  _ priority patient _ .” Tony had never been more grateful for his fame and reputation. “Now, the question is-” 

Doctor Estrada was cut off by the loud ringing emanating from the old phone on her desk, and Tony suddenly felt bad for breaking up the board meeting with his own ringtone. He felt like he was about to rip his own hair out at the interruption, and he imagined Mr Monotone had felt similarly crazed. 

“Excuse me, I need to take this,” The woman said, putting the phone to her ear. “Hello? Charlotte, I’m in the middle of an appointment. This better be important.” There were a few seconds of silence, in which Doctor Estrada’s face changed from slightly irked to downright  _ murderous _ scarily fast. “They’ve done  _ what _ ? Hang on, stay calm, I’ll be right there,” she slammed the phone down and turned to the trio. “Colonel Rhodes, do you mind if I borrow your expertise for this situation? Mr Stark, it’s probably best for you to stay here and Ms Potts, would you be able to make sure he actually does that?” the doctor ordered, and Tony was left marvelling at her ability to take control of a situation as she walked swiftly out of the room, Rhodey following cluelessly behind her.

They returned about fifteen minutes later, looking harried and shutting the door quickly behind them. An anxious and frustrated Tony was bouncing infuriatingly on the bed, sending annoyed glares at Pepper every few seconds, who was pointedly ignoring him. His assistant had taken the job that Doctor Estrada assigned her very seriously, and hadn’t even let him stand up from the spot he’d chosen on the examination bed.

As soon as the other two were settled, Tony was firing off questions. “What’s the problem? What’s going on? Is it my son?” he asked frantically, terrified that something had happened to his kid.

“No, no, your son is fine, Mr Stark. It was the paparazzi. Apparently one of our patients in the waiting room called in an anonymous tip that you had been there, and so they were all crammed into the room when we showed up, but we managed to get them outside,” Dr Estrada said, rushing to assure him of his son’s well-being, though the news she brought wasn’t exactly great. He’d probably be trapped in this hospital forever now.

“You might not be able to leave for a while though, Tones, especially if you’re planning on walking out of here with a baby,” Rhodey added, putting voice to Tony’s worries. “There must be a hundred different news stations camped out there.”

“Yes, but we’re working on getting them removed from the premises, which should give you a little room to breathe. If that doesn’t pan out, there’s a back exit that they don’t know about as of yet.” Tony just nodded, still trying to calm his racing heart. His son was okay, everything was fine.

“That’s one good receptionist you’ve got there. She was fending off those vultures left and right, and not once did she crack. It was pretty impressive, the media are very good at getting what they want from people,” Rhodey said, his tone impressed.

“Charlotte? Oh yes, she’s very good at keeping a cool head in high-pressure situations. She would make such a good surgeon, but we lost her to the law school,” Doctor Estrada sighed morosely. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about leaving for a while yet. Your baby will need to stay in the NICU for at least a week so that we can monitor him and ensure there aren’t any complications we haven’t picked up on yet. Most parents in this situation don’t want to leave their child, so there’s a fully functioning bathroom and kitchen off to the side, as well as pull-out beds.”

Tony nodded, and realised with a jolt that he’d never even asked if his son had a name.  _ A fantastic start to fatherhood, Tony, stellar effort, really _ . 

“What’s he called?” he blurted out suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” Doctor Estrada asked, raising a slim eyebrow.

“My son, what’s his name?”

“Oh, Ms Parker didn’t choose a name before she passed away, so it’s up to you, Mr Stark.” 

And shit, it really was up to him. Everything from this point onwards was. 

He had to care for a baby, raise him to be a good man, look after him when he was sick, comfort him when he grazed his knee, pretend to ogle at his mediocre drawings, unless his kid turned out to be artistically inclined. 

Oh God, his child could be artistically inclined. How was he supposed to support a kid who’s passion was art when Tony himself could barely draw a stick figure without stuffing it up? There was a  _ reason _ he’d expanded JARVIS’ abilities in order to allow the AI to create blueprints for him.

What if his son loved sports? Tony was not an athletic man - all of his muscle came from heavy lifting in the lab. Oh no, he’d have to teach his child how to catch! How does catching work again?  _ He’d forgotten how to catch! _

The sheer unknowing of just who his child would grow up to be scared him beyond belief, but no matter what his son ended up enjoying, Tony would be able to adjust. Winging it was his specialty, and he was a genius for a reason. It couldn’t be  _ that _ hard to teach himself how to paint, right? 

He was terrified, but his father had once told him that fear was a necessary component to perfection. If that was true, Tony would be the best damn father in history.

After getting his cheek swabbed, he was not allowed to see his baby. No, he had to wait for the results, both because the hospital legally would not allow him to skip the process, and because Pepper and Rhodey didn’t want him getting attached to a baby that may not actually belong to him. Bold of them to assume he wasn’t already attached. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if those results came back negative. The little images he’d conjured in his mind of nurseries and father-son activities, of a child all to his own, would be washed down the drain, and he’d be left with nothing, which wasn’t new.

He had realised, sometime during all this, that before - before meeting Mary Parker, before the call, before the baby - he had really, truly had nothing. He lived alone in a big mansion on a hill, crowded with the phantom memories of his parents, and the occasional one-night stand to try and fill the gaping hole that his family had left behind when they died. Yes, it was just him and his ghosts in his huge house on the hill, but maybe his son would be able to change that, if the kid really  _ was _ his son.

Tony shook his head, ridding himself of the swirling whirlpool that was his mind. He needed to distract himself, he needed…

He needed to choose a name. That seemed like a sufficient distraction, and so he opened up his phone, and typed out a list. It was ordered, with pros and cons for each name. The whole process was kind of cathartic, and the organisation helped soothe his wild thoughts. 

Soon enough, he’d narrowed the list down to the top three, but there were an equal amount of pros and cons to each one, so he turned to Pepper and Rhodey, his professional decision making squad. They’d been waiting patiently with him in Doctor Estrada’s office while she went about her duties for the day, and now it was time for him to put their presence to good use.

“Guys, baby Stark needs a name, and I’ve got three contenders, but I need your opinions to be the deciding vote,” he said, interrupting the relaxed silence for the first time since they’d been left alone in the office. 

Rhodey and Pepper looked surprised. They probably thought he’d been designing a new weapon or something, with the intense way he’d been staring at his phone. “Alright, what are they?” Rhodey questioned, looking almost apprehensive.

“Right, first up is Edwin-”

“Nope,” Pepper cut in immediately.

“What! Why? Edwin Jarvis was my butler, and probably more of a father to me than my actual  _ dad _ .”

“I know Tony, but Edwin is a very… old fashioned name. Your child will be bullied horrendously if he’s called Edwin. Besides, it doesn't really work with your last name,” Pepper explained patiently, and Tony had to admit that she had a point.

“Yeah, I suppose you're right. Okay, the next one that I thought of was Mark. Now, I know what you’re thinking-”

“ _ No, _ Tony!” Pepper and Rhodey shouted together, struggling to hold back their eye-rolls at his childlike nature.

“Jesus Christ, Tones, It’s like you’re trying to condemn this kid to a life of harassment at the hands of his peers.  _ Mark Stark _ ? Really? I  _ cannot _ believe your immaturity extends to picking your own kid’s name,” Rhodey chastised, though he looked like he was fighting to contain a bout of laughter.

“Alright, fine, I thought rhyming was cool now, but apparently not. You guys better like this next one, because I don’t really have any others. Ready?” 

Pepper and Rhodey nodded eagerly.

“Peter Stark,” Tony said, grinning shyly as he looked up at his two best friends, who seemed to be waiting for a punchline that would never come. He’d saved his favourite for last. The name was from Peter Rabbit - a book his mom used to read to him when he was younger, about a mischievous little bunny. Knowing the Stark genes, baby Stark was going to be a cheeky little one as well. 

Rhodey and Pepper shared a warm look. “It’s perfect, Tony,” Pepper said with a soft smile.

Another hour passed and the trio spent their time picking out baby clothes and nursery furniture online. Tony wasn’t sure of much in his new venture as a father, but he did know that his kid would be the most spoiled child in existence. 

Moments later, Doctor Estrada bustled in with a smile on her typically stern face. “The results came back,” she revealed, as soon as she had all eyes in the room on her. 

Rhodey and Pepper instantly straightened in their seats, and Tony sat up from where he’d been sprawled across the examination bed. He clasped his hands in his lap, for once perfectly still, and Pepper reached over and squeezed his knee lightly, her warm palm resting there, a comforting spot of warmth. 

“Why do you all look so serious? It’s positive, you  _ are _ the father, Mr Stark,” Doctor Estrada said, her small smile growing as she handed the results page to Tony to check over. He did, barely able to make sense of the graphs and chart through the buzzing joy in his head. 

At the smile that broke on his face when he looked up from the page, Rhodey whooped and Pepper breathed out a small sigh of relief before laughing wetly. Tony didn’t pay any attention to them though, because he was suddenly overwhelmed by the purest explosion of happiness in his chest. It was nothing but warmth and light and  _ oh God _ he could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears, but he didn’t have it in him to care because he had a  _ son _ .

“Would you like to see him?” Doctor Estrada asked kindly, her smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Is that even a question?” Tony breathed, leaping up from the examination bed. “His name is Peter, by the way. Peter Stark.”

“That sounds lovely, I’ll put it on his chart when we get there,” she said, her tone silently amused. Tony hardly noticed though, because he was going to see his  _ son _ .

After a tantalisingly long walk through even more bland hallways, and a long ride in an elevator, they reached the NICU. Tony would finally get to meet his  _ baby _ . 

Doctor Estrada ordered them to wash their hands thoroughly at the entrance to the ward, and it finally dawned on Tony just how unwell his child could be. He hadn’t actually gotten many answers on that, partially because he was too scared to ask, and now that fear was wrapping itself around his chest, squeezing the breath out of his lungs.

They entered, and all Tony could see were rows and rows of cribs, some open-topped and some full-on incubators. 

Doctor Estrada must have seen the anxiety mounting in his chest, because she spoke up. “Some babies are born even earlier than Peter, and need an incubator to survive. Your son will be in an open-topped crib, as he’s really just here for observation, Mr Stark. I must warn you though, he’ll have a nasal cannula, but that’s just to support his lungs for a little bit. They’re the last thing to develop in the womb, so most preemies have at least low-grade asthma as children, but, for Peter at least, there won't be any serious long-term effects. There's also a risk of impaired eyesight or hearing, but he’s one of the healthier babies we have here at the moment. I wouldn’t expect many complications in his development. He’s a very strong little guy, and has most of the nurses wrapped around his finger.”

Tony’s stomach twisted anxiously at the possibility of the future health issues his baby might face, but at the mental image of his son charming everyone around him, he couldn’t contain a smile. 

Doctor Estrada stopped at a crib in the furthest corner of the room, close to the small kitchen area and bathroom. “This is him. Don’t be afraid to pick him up, but be mindful of his machines,” she said, before turning her attention to the chart hanging off the end of his crib. 

Tony wasn’t paying attention to her, though. Instead, his gaze was fixated on the tiny,  _ tiny _ figure he could see through the clear plastic sides of the crib. He approached slowly, scared that his footsteps would somehow disturb his child. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that Rhodey and Pepper chose to hang back, but he didn’t care about his perfect, brilliant friends right now. 

He peered over the edge and was met with bright, intelligent blue eyes staring back at him. Their colour might have shocked him, but he’d done his research. Most babies were born with blue eyes, because they hadn’t been exposed to any light and the pigment in them hadn’t had a chance to change to their actual colour.

Peter was  _ so small _ . His chart said that he was sixteen inches long, and weighed three and a half pounds, but it looked like a light breeze would be capable of blowing him off the face of the planet. He was wearing a diaper that dwarfed his small body, and there was a blue blanket in the crib with him, but he’d obviously tried to kick it off and had managed to get it twisted around his tiny, frog-like legs. There was a single curl of soft, brown hair growing out of his scalp, and Tony couldn’t help but reach out and stroke a calloused finger along Peter’s soft cheek. 

He was perfect.

The baby blinked slowly, but otherwise made no movement Tony wasn’t surprised, the kid was barely a day old. Hesitating only slightly, Tony slowly,  _ slowly _ picked his little son up, mindful of the oxygen cannula that wasn’t as scary as he had thought it would be, and the heart monitor attached to Peter’s (tiny,  _ tiny _ ) chest. 

The baby was so light - and Tony’s heart skipped a beat when he felt the miniscule weight in his arms, because there was  _ no way _ that was healthy - but he fit into his daddy’s arms like he was made to be there, and the billionaire turned to Rhodey and Pepper, holding Peter close to his chest like he would never let him go again. Tears were building in his eyes, and though Pepper and Rhodey looked blindingly happy, he bet his expression could outshine their’s a hundred times over. 

Tony looked down at the little baby in his arms, who was staring up at him in awe, as if his father’s face was the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen. “Hey, Petey, I’m your daddy. That’s right, baby, daddy’s here,” he crooned. Right there, surrounded by Pepper and Rhodey, with the comforting weight of Peter in his arms, he felt calm and so, so happy. 

He had Peter now, who was his and his alone. The missing piece to the puzzle of his life, his everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was satisfactory.  
Comments and kudos make my day :D


	2. The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, we have another one! It took me a while, but after a lot of editing and rewriting, I'm quite happy with it. I hope you enjoy!

August 13th 2001

Three days after Tony met Peter for the first time, tragedy struck.

Not to him, no, the universe wasn’t going to pop his little bubble of happiness just yet. It wasn’t going to destroy the small family he’d managed to create for himself before it had ever really had the chance to start.

Instead, the universe aimed it’s destructive tendencies at another family - the Morrison’s. Tony had talked with them frequently while maintaining his vigil at Peter’s side. The couple had given birth to their little daughter, Harriet Morrison, just one day before Peter had been born. The doctors had told them that Judy - Harriet’s mother - was infertile, but her and Hank - Harriet’s father - had persisted, which had led to the conception of one miracle baby, Harriet Morrison.

But the miracle hadn't lasted long, because she’d been born four months early. It was lucky that Harriet had survived as long as she had in the NICU, but the doctors weren’t optimistic. 

Hank and Judy had been at their child’s incubator the entire time, and Tony could confidently say that the stream of tears down Judy’s face had not stopped the entire time. He couldn’t blame her though - if Peter was in the same condition, Tony wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

While he didn’t like to look away from Peter (the man found every movement his son made to be absolutely incredible), he’d done it to make idle conversation with the couple a few times. They told him that they’d been trying to have a baby for seven years, and that a large chunk of their savings had been spent on IVF. 

Tony’s heart panged at their story, knowing that Peter had been made so callously, during a one-night stand - not that he regretted the creation of his son one bit, because he adored his little man.

Tony and Pepper tried their hardest to make life just a little bit easier for the couple (Rhodey had gone back to work after he’d met Peter for the first time, but he still called daily to see how his nephew and best friend were doing). Pepper sat and comforted Judy when it all became too much, and Tony distracted Hank from the dire condition of his child with the stories of his exploits around the globe. The Morrison’s had always wanted to travel, but IVF had taken priority over seeing the canals of Venice, or the castles of Scotland. 

During the two days since they’d met, Tony had grown to be quite fond of the couple (he guessed that a shared nightmare was quite the binding experience), and so when a red light flashed to alert the nurses of the declining vitals of one of the babies, Pepper and Tony immediately looked over to where the nurses were swarming towards Harriet’s incubator, their stomach’s dropping collectively.

Hank had just managed to coax Judy away from their daughter’s side for some tea and a small break from the stress, but the couple were hurrying back over to their little girl, the beginnings of a cup of tea strewn across the kitchen counter, abandoned in their haste. 

The red light ceased flashing when one of the nurses hit a button, and the NICU seemed eerily still without it. Tony heard small, quiet whimpering noises behind him, and turned to find Peter’s face scrunched up in an unhappy grimace, having been awoken from his nap by the commotion.

Reflexively, the billionaire scooped his son up, murmuring gentle shushing noises and making sure the baby’s head was positioned near Tony’s heart. Over the past couple of days, Tony had figured out that his heartbeat tended to soothe Peter when he was being fussy, which happened a lot - his boy was  _ not _ a good sleeper. He watched the nurses as their movements grew increasingly erratic, absentmindedly stroking a finger up and down Peter’s face to soothe both himself and the baby, relishing in the fact that he could finally do it without the interruption of the nasal cannula. It had been taken out that day, and everyone had been impressed by how well his son was recovering. Doctor Estrada even said that they could probably go home soon, and Tony was immensely grateful for that.

While he would live in a hospital for all eternity if it meant Peter could be safe and healthy, he did miss his home in Malibu. He missed his lab and tinkering while trying to stop DUM-E, Butterfingers and U from destroying something. He missed his shower and  _ god _ , did he miss his king-sized mattress - it was probably easier to sleep on a bed of nails than those pull-out couches that the hospital provided. 

Pepper said the bags under Tony’s eyes were getting to be horrendous, but he just couldn’t sleep. He’d never liked hospitals - they reeked of antiseptic and death, and each one reminded him of the place where he had gone to see his parents one last time. 

Being in a room filled with babies, albeit sick babies, had started to ebb away at his fear a little bit, because babies meant life and a whole bucketload of time, or that’s what Tony had thought until the nurses took a simultaneous step away from Harriet’s incubator, their faces somber and eyes tear-filled.

Two of them broke away from the group, and made their way towards the couple, who were standing like statues, staring at the tiny, still body of their little miracle. And then Judy broke, her legs folding beneath her as she sunk to the floor and opened her mouth in a silent wail of sorrow. Hank followed her to the ground, his hands hovering uselessly above her back as his entire body shook with repressed sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Judy mouthed soundlessly, and Hank finally crumbled alongside his wife, his face folding into creases of barely-contained desolation. The nurses coaxed the couple into a standing position, and led them out of the NICU, offering them gentle condolences and tight squeezes.

There was silence in the ward for a few moments, the other parents rooted to their places with muted shock, struggling to believe that something so permanent, an entire life, had been snuffed out in a matter of minutes. Death was the permanent marker that scrawled ugly blemishes across the whiteboard of life, and it was something Tony had learnt a long time ago on that cold December night.

Peter squirmed in his father’s arms, drool bubbling down his chin, and Tony looked down at his little boy, feeling almost guilty at the warmth that bloomed through his chest at the sight of the wide blue eyes that had captured his heart.    
Peter had been an accident. Tony hadn’t even known that he wanted a child until one was unceremoniously thrust into his lap, and yet there were people out there,  _ good people _ , who would try all their lives to get what Tony had achieved in a single night of drunken foolishness. He wouldn’t trade Peter for the world, but the guilt still dug itself a pit in his chest, resting there and pushing against his heart. 

The Morrison’s did not return, and Tony didn’t expect them to. He sent them a condolence message though, and attached a link to an account he’d set up for them. It came with a healthy sum of money, and a short note: ‘for all the places you want to see, when you’re ready ~T.S.’

Pepper often told him that throwing money at a problem was not how normal, emotionally healthy people solved them, but Tony didn’t know any other way to do it. He hoped that the Morrison’s saw the good intentions behind his actions. 

In yet another sad addition to an already somber day, a nurse came in to gently wrap up Harriet’s tiny body, and clean the area where Judy and Hank had basically lived for the past three days. 

Peter eventually fell asleep in Tony’s arms, his tiny fingers curled around his daddy’s much larger thumb, and the blue, woolen beanie that Pepper had bought was sitting lopsidedly on his fluffy head. It was one of the fruits of a ridiculously long shopping trip that Pepper had done. She’d left for five hours, and returned with multiple bags filled to the brim with anything Peter could possibly need while he was in the hospital. About five of the bags were dedicated to clothing alone, and Tony was horrified by the sheer amount of baby “necessities” she’d purchased (Tony had a sneaking suspicion that not all of them were as necessary as the woman claimed, but she had always loved shopping, especially when it was with Tony’s credit card, and he wasn’t about to deny her this small pleasure after everything she’d done for him over the years). 

His horror only grew when Pepper sheepishly informed him that there were several more bags back at the hotel, where she’d been sleeping and working in between the time she spent accompanying Tony in the NICU. 

Tony had noticed that Peter seemed to sleep easier with physical contact, and Pepper and Rhodey both said that he liked his father’s touch the most. Tony didn’t know if they were just saying that to be nice, or if they actually meant it, but he was grateful for the show of good faith. 

Nevertheless, it meant that he had spent hours each night rocking a baby to sleep. Peter may be light, worryingly so, but Tony’s muscles still cramped horrendously from the time spent in one position. He wasn’t complaining though, because nothing felt more right than the feeling of his son in his arms.

August 15th 2001

A couple of days after Harriet died, Peter’s health had improved greatly, and Doctor Estrada had given them the green light to leave, reminding Tony to bring his son straight back if he noticed any discrepancies in the kid’s breathing. While it was phrased as a gentle warning, it didn’t stop Tony from instantly spinning into a haze of panic and resolving to spend the night staring at the rise and fall of Peter’s chest.

But not even that was enough to put a damper on Tony’s mood, because he was finally getting to take his son home. After five days of overwhelming stress and frightening new experiences, he’d finally be able to introduce Peter to his life.

Before he could do that though, he’d have to figure out how to maneuver their way through the swarming paparazzi still camped outside the hospital. Their numbers had lessened slightly, but it was still comparable to the conditions of a zoo. 

They’d discovered the back exit days ago, and not even the combined genius of himself and Pepper could think up a viable solution to the issue. The only way to get around it would be by going straight through.

Tony was almost tempted to live in the hospital forever, but he hadn’t slept in a proper bed for five days, and hadn’t attended to any Stark Industries business, or called Obie in just as long. His fear of the place was mounting with each day, and he was pretty sure that Peter was getting cagey as well, despite the fact that the kid didn’t know anything other than his father’s face and the plain, white ceiling above his crib.

The thought that his son hadn’t even seen the sky yet spurred Tony on, and so, after dressing Peter in a dark blue NASA jumpsuit (he had to cultivate an appreciation for science early on) and rocking him to sleep, Tony put his escape plan into action.

Among one of the many surprisingly useful results of Pepper’s shopping splurge, was a baby carrier with a mesh covering that protected Peter from the sun, and also the prying eyes and cameras of the paparazzi. Tony had also had the unexpected foresight to purchase a pair of infant headphones, which would hopefully keep his son’s perfect little ears safe from the typical screeching noises of the media. 

He had enlisted Happy’s help in the plan too. The driver had parked his car directly outside the front doors, so they’d be able to make a quick getaway once they broke free of the clinging grips of the reporters. The man then met up with Tony in the waiting room of the hospital, Pepper having left a half hour beforehand to get a new hotel room in order. They were staying overnight in New York, because an hour car ride and then a five hour plane trip with a newborn right after was  _ not _ a good idea, so they were splitting up the travel time.

Tony took the time to briefly introduce Happy to his son (the man was already one-hundred percent devoted to the kid. He could join the club), who was peacefully sleeping with the large headphones planted firmly in place on his head. They were squishing his chubby cheeks together just a little bit and Tony would be lying if he said he didn’t take multiple photos with the camera Rhodey had bought for him as a ‘congrats, you’re a dad!’ type present.

After composing himself and straightening his blazer, which he’d slipped on over his rumpled AC/DC t-shirt and jeans, (he was leaving the hospital after a five-day-stay with his son, but he wasn’t a  _ heathen _ ), he was ready to go. All he wanted to do was get Peter home and safe in Malibu, and just maybe have a twelve-hour reunion nap with his bed.

Tony nodded a quick goodbye to Charlotte, who was manning the front desk again, and slipped his tinted aviators on as Happy led the way through the sliding doors, tightening his grip on the handle of Peter’s carrier. As soon as the glass disappeared, Tony was hit by a wall of sound. 

_ Screeches and shouts, questions, cameras clicking, yelling, so much yelling _ .

All the noise was deafening, and he thanked his lucky stars that he’d been able to think far enough ahead to ensure he snagged a pair of headphones for Peter, because the baby would not have appreciated the sound of the media as they desperately tried to scratch the surface of a story. 

Tony pulled Peter’s carrier closer to his body and tucked his head down as he followed behind Happy, who was slowly but surely clearing a path through the reporters with his broad shoulders, dutifully ignoring the questions being thrown at them.

“Mr Stark, why were you in the hospital?”

“Sir, do you have anything to say to us?”

“Is that a baby carrier?”

“Are you a father now, Mr Stark?”

“What’s the baby’s name?”

“Boy or a girl?”

Question after question after question, shouted at him from all sides. Tony hissed the words, “no comment” over and over, but they didn’t seem to be getting the message, so he just focused on shoving his way through the crowd. 

He was almost free when it happened. Almost away from the constricting group of hungry vultures when he felt a sharp tug on the carrier, and his heart rate spiked as his mind blared a warning. 

_ PeterPeterPeter, someone’s trying to take Peter from me. _

He spun around, snarling viciously at the foolish reporter who’d dared to grab his baby’s carrier. The man cowered back when he took stock of the look on Tony’s face, his hand slipping away from the handle, which he’d grabbed in a feeble attempt to attract the billionaire’s attention. 

Well, it worked, but it was a move the man would rue to the day he died.

Tony took a step towards the man, who stumbled back slightly. “Don’t you  _ ever _ touch my son. Never again, or I will  _ sue _ your  _ pathetic ass _ for all it’s worth. And you can quote me on that,” he growled at the reporter, raising his voice at the end so that all of the other vultures gathered around him would hear. 

It had gone deathly silent, most of the faces in the crowd, which had previously been a mixture of excitement at the scent of a new story, and desperation, had morphed into shock. Tony took the chance to push through the last few people between him and his ticket out of there. 

He made it to the car, and Happy opened the back door for him and Peter, before walking around to the driver’s side and hopping in himself. The reporters, who had finally recovered, crowded around the car, pressing their lenses against the darkly tinted windows in an attempt to see inside, but three honks in quick succession from Happy sent them scuttling away.    
The driver stomped on the gas and peeled out of the hospital parking lot before any other disruptions to their exit could take place. He got to the main road without incident, and was forced to slow down as the trademark New York traffic came into effect, only growing worse the deeper they got into the city.

Peter’s carrier doubled as a baby seat, and Tony double, then triple-checked that he’d fastened it in properly, even adding a second (mostly useless) seatbelt in an attempt to make the carrier as secure as possible. 

And then, finally,  _ finally _ , he was able to remove the mesh and see his baby’s face again. Peter was still asleep, and Tony managed to gently work the headphones off of his head without changing that.

He had never understood how parents could talk about their kids all the time, or how they could think that their little snotball was the cutest thing on the planet, but  _ now? _ Now, he got it. 

Tony had talked the poor nurses' ears off about Peter, back when they were still in the hospital. He’d talked about how he had his daddy’s nose, but his mama’s chin. How his still-blue eyes were framed by the longest, darkest lashes Tony had ever seen, and how they brushed his cheeks while he slept. 

He could confidently say that Peter was the cutest baby he had ever seen (happily ignoring the fact that he was as biased as they come), and he made sure to remind everyone of that. 

The nurses had listened to all of it, smiling and nodding while they bustled about the ward, completing their duties. They were probably used to dealing with besotted parents on a daily basis, and had learnt to just tune it out, but Tony still appreciated their apparent willingness to hear everything he had to say about his son.

Thirty minutes into the car trip, Happy drove over a pothole and the car jerked roughly. Tony hurried to put his face into Peter’s line of sight, knowing that his boy was a light sleeper and that the disturbance definitely would have been enough to wake him. 

Sure enough, Peter’s eyes were blinking open, still hazy from sleep as his tiny mouth stretched out in a yawn. The baby let out a little whimper, before he caught sight of his daddy, and Tony cooed as he let Peter’s fingers curl around his own. 

Recently, he had figured out that Peter didn’t get upset pointlessly, like other babies had the annoying habit of doing (his kid was  _ so smart _ ). When he did cry, it was for a reason - either he was uncomfortable (like, diaper-full-of-shit, or stomach-not-full- _ enough _ uncomfortable) and wanted people to know about it, or he woke up and couldn’t see his daddy (knowing that the mere sight of his face was enough to calm Peter down made Tony feel more necessary than he ever had before), or he was scared. 

That last one had been discovered in the middle of Peter's first bath, and it had been a traumatising experience for the both of them. Tony had been sure he was doing something wrong, or hurting the baby in some way - he must have been for Peter to scream the way he had. But the supervising nurse had assured him that he was doing everything right. By the end of the process, Peter’s expression was one of heartbreaking betrayal and Tony had felt emotionally, physically and mentally drained, but his son was clean, so he marked it down as a small victory.

So, knowing that there were quite defined reasons as to why Peter cried, Tony ran through the mental checklist in his head when his son started to whine once he’d woken up. He could see Tony, so that wasn’t it, and he’d slurped an entire bottle down forty minutes ago, so he wasn’t hungry either. 

IN the end, he didn’t have to figure out the cause of his son's woes, because it presented itself to him in the form of a disgusting smell. 

“Ah, so that’s the problem, huh? You need a new diaper. Well, lucky for you, your daddy is a diaper-changing master,” Tony cooed at his squirming baby while wrinkling his nose against the smell. 

Just last week, that statement would have been a lie, but in the past few days, he’d become proficient in all things Peter. By now, he could change diapers in his sleep. The process might be a little more difficult while sitting in the back of a moving car, but there was a first time for everything.

It took twisting his torso at an awkward angle and bending his elbow so that it was parallel to his head, but Tony managed to unbutton Peter’s little jumpsuit (he still couldn’t get over how  _ small _ everything to do with his son was) sliding the baby’s legs out of the garment and unstrapping his diaper. After wiping that whole  _ area _ down, he quickly swapped the dirty diaper out for a clean one, holding his breath to avoid the smell. The diapers still looked so big on his son, and they bulged against his clothes, but really, it all just added to the endearment factor. 

Once Peter had been successfully changed, Tony was left with a dirty diaper and nowhere to put it, so naturally, he rapped his knuckles on the divider between him and Happy. It came down slowly, emitting a mechanical whirring sound that almost drowned out Peter’s satisfied gurgles - he was a happy baby now that he wasn’t wearing his own poo. 

“Can I help you?” Happy said, his eyes flicking away from the road for a second to look at Tony in the rearview mirror.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bin up there, would you?”

“No, Tony, I don’t keep rubbish bins in my cars, why do you ask?” Tony made a mental note to remind his friend to tone down the sass.  _ Technically _ , Happy worked for him.   


“I have found myself in an unfortunate situation involving a dirty diaper and nowhere to put said diaper.”

“Does that mean that you’re just sitting back there with your offspring and his shi-”   


“ _ No _ ! No swearing around my innocent child. He’s gonna have a hard enough time remaining pure with me as his dad, and I don’t want his first words to be of the filthy variety. Can you imagine what Pepper would do to me?”

“Heh, have fun with your kid’s excrement then,” Happy teased, before hurriedly closing the divider and cutting off Tony’s protests, leaving him to mope in the backseat with only his infant son and a horrible odour that would probably have to be bleached out of his nasal passages.

Luckily for him, his genius brain was motivated to remove the terrible stink and actually started to work again. He remembered the diaper bags that Pepper had bought, which were used to dispose of dirty diapers and were blessedly scented. After much rooting around, Tony was able to successfully pull a diaper bag out of the box and finally get rid of the nasty mess. He tied a knot at the top to seal the stench in, and enjoyed the next ten minutes of poop-free air.

The car slid to a stop, and Tony could see the grand hotel they were staying at through his tinted window. A bellboy was already running towards where Happy had parked, a golden wheely cart at his heels, in order to assist the driver with the bags. 

Peter had fallen back asleep after his sanitary needs had been taken care of, his little fingers entwined around his daddy’s much larger thumb. Reluctantly, Tony disentangled his hand from his baby’s grip so that he could unbuckle the carrier and hoist it out of the car.

As soon as Happy opened the door, Tony threw the diaper bag at him, and his driver caught it reflexively, though his face wrinkled in disgust. “Your reward for being such an incredible driver, Hap.”

Pepper was already in the suite, so all Tony had to do was grab a key card from a tired receptionist and make his way into the elevator and wait as it climbed higher and higher. The proximity of a proper bed seemed to have triggered something inside him, because by the time the elevator reached the top floor, he was struggling to stand and exhaustion was pulling at his eyelids.

When he got through the door, Pepper was working studiously at the ornate dining room table, a fruit smoothie at her elbow. He greeted her with a tired grunt, and she looked up, eyes softening as she took in his haggard appearance. The woman, bless her soul, gestured in the direction of one of the bedrooms before returning to her work.

He made his way down the hallway and carefully removed a still-sleeping Peter from his carrier. Once the baby was changed into his pajamas (a fluffy brown onesie that made him look like a little teddy bear) and nestled into the temporary crib that was set up next to Tony’s bed, the man then removed his blazer and jeans, before collapsing onto the bed and falling into the land of dreams before he could even pull the covers over himself.

~~~

When Pepper came in to check on the pair thirty minutes later (they’d been suspiciously quiet, and she’d learnt from experience that a quiet Tony usually meant he was up to something), she saw them both conked out and snuffling quietly in their respective beds. Smiling to herself at the sweet scene, she covered Tony with a blanket, turned the light off and backed out, closing the door as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes the second chapter. I hope you liked it, and feel free to comment or leave a kudos.  
So I've decided this will go until Peter is about three, but it won't document every single day of those three years. After Tony's first day alone with Peter, It'll jump to the next important event, and then the next one, and so on until we have three years worth of irondad and spiderson fluff :D


	3. Peter Meets The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that, another chapter!  
I hope you enjoy reading anddddd, uh idk. I'm going on a holiday soon and I'll try to update before I leave but if I don't you probably won't be getting another chapter for at least seven days, sorry.  
Sorry for any mistakes, I was too excited to get this up to meticulously proof-read it :)  
Also shout out to starkquill_trash (izzybelw) because they helped me with some technical baby stuff, so that was rlly helpful.

August 16th 2001

Tony usually liked plane trips, especially on his private jet. The food was always incredible, thanks to the in-flight chef, and the interior was large and well-designed, comfortable enough that he could normally manage to get a little work done.

However, a five hour plane trip with a newborn that had never been on a plane before was not an experience he’d wish on his worst enemy, especially if the aforementioned newborn woke up eight times the previous night and was grumpier than a bear just out of hibernation.

Tony discovered that newborns didn’t like planes. Full stop.

Newborns didn’t like it when the engine roared during take-off.

Newborns didn’t like it when the air pressure changed while the aircraft was ascending and their ears popped.

Newborns didn’t like it when they were jerked out of their nap when the plane hit a bit of turbulence.

Newborns just didn’t like planes, and when newborns were unhappy with a situation, they screamed. Peter was no different.

Two hours into the trip and the baby had not stopped wailing. His face was red from his cries, and his voice had become hoarse. Tony was freaking out, and the periodic glares from Happy (who had pointedly taken out his noise-proof headphones about five minutes in) were not helping. The father had tried everything - placing Peter’s head over his heart, rubbing the baby’s stomach, his back, stroking his cheek, rocking him gently - but nothing was working.

It was out of pure desperation that he did it. He’d tried everything else with no success, and so he did not hesitate when the idea popped into his mind. 

He started humming. Not the typical lullaby though, no. Tony’s mind was not clear enough to think of a child-friendly song, so he hummed the first thing that came to mind, which just so happened to be Back In Black by AC/DC. It was what he listened to when he was upset, so why couldn’t it work for his son as well?

What he didn’t expect was for the song to calm Peter so quickly. About five minutes into his excellent rendition of the classic, his son’s cries quieted, and he finally relaxed into his daddy’s arms, drained from his meltdown. His eyelids were drooping and his little mouth stretched into a yawn, but he was content.

Tony continued humming for another ten minutes, and by then, Peter was fast asleep in his arms. He sighed in relief and gently put him down in his cot, which Pepper had set up sometime in the last two hours. God bless Pepper, he had no idea where he’d be without her. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere.

After flattening the fluff on top of Peter’s head (it had gotten all messy while the baby was screaming), he walked towards the front of the plane, where Happy and Pepper were sitting, stretching out his aching arms as he went. Peter may be one of the lightest things he’d ever held, but cradling him for two hours in the same position would put a strain on anyone’s arms.

He slumped down in one of the large, cushioned leather seats with a huff, flagging a flight attendant and asking her to bring him a cup of water for. Two hours of begging, pleading, shushing and humming had left his throat feeling like sandpaper. 

It occurred to him just then that he could have requested alcohol, any type he wanted - the jet was certainly well-stocked enough for it - but he hadn’t felt the slightest inclination for the stuff since he’d met Peter. Tony had used to rely on alcohol to numb his feelings, distract him from his sad reality, but now, he’d rather hold Peter close when everything was too much.

Maybe knowing that he had a little human that depended upon him was enough for him to get his act together. A little human that didn’t deserve an alcoholic father because he was the sweetest, purest thing in the world. A little human that had such potential, and needed love and care and support from his daddy. Whatever it was, Tony told himself he’d never touch alcohol again if that’s what it took for him to keep Peter safe.

The billionaire spent the rest of the flight finally looking at all the work he’d ignored since he’d found out about his son. He sent hundreds of vital emails, read horribly boring contracts, made a few calls, and… contacted Obie. Pepper had reportedly told him the bare essentials of the situation, but refused to tell the older man anything more. “This is your prerogative and your prerogative alone, Tony. Tell him only what you want to, and only when you want to,” she had said, effortlessly fielding all the calls and emails that the man had sent through, demanding to know what was going on. 

She may not have been on board with the whole idea of Tony becoming a father, but she was on his side once she’d met Peter and fallen in love with him, just as everyone else had. Tony was pretty sure a few nurses had cried when they left the hospital.

He’d been putting off calling Obie, though, partially because he was terrified of what the older man would say (not that he’d tell anyone that) and partially because Obie was one of the last connections he had to his dad, and telling him felt like telling Howard.

Nevertheless, he picked up the phone and did it, because he was Tony Stark, Goddammit. He ain’t no chicken.

Obie answered gruffly. “Tony, It’s about time you called.”   


“Heh, yeah. I’ve been super busy with… everything.”

“So, Ms Potts tells me you’re a father now?”   


“Yeah, yeah. I have a son, his name’s Peter. Let me tell you this now, Obie, he is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen-”

“Is he going to be your heir?”

_ Uh, kind of a weird question _ . Tony hadn’t even thought about that. “Uh, I guess so? That’s not really what’s been on my mind lately, ya know, with the whole being-a-new-dad thing.”

“Have you even thought this through, Tony? There are  _ already _ articles about ‘The Affair That Brought About A Baby Stark’ and the approval ratings for Stark Industries are getting lower every day thanks to the child,” the man said, his tone sour.

Tony scowled as unbridled anger flared in his chest. How  _ dare _ Obie talk about Peter that way. “Uh, yeah, I did think this through, Obadiah. Granted, I had my doubts, but then I actually met Peter. He’s my  _ son _ , and I won't just let the government ship him off to live with strangers.” Tony paused, taking a breath to stop his voice from shaking with fury. “Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about him like he’s single handedly bringing down the company - he’s a baby, not an evil mastermind. And don’t you worry about your precious approval ratings, because everyone who meets Peter loves him. I’ll hold a press conference once I get home, happy?”

“There’s no need to act so aggressively, Anthony.” Tony winced at the use of his full name. This conversation was reminding him a little too much of the ones he used to have with his father. “I’m merely watching out for the company.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t really care about the company right now, Obie. I just want to spend some time with my son, which reminds me. I’m going to be on paternity leave for a while. A very long while.”   


“What? You can’t just leave!”   


“I think you’ll find I can. I hereby pronounce you temporary CEO, congratulations on the promotion. The guys in R&D can manage weapon manufacturing while I’m gone. They’re pretty smart, it’s why I hired them.”

“But, Tony-” 

“Nope. No, I don’t care. I’ll see you later, Obie,” Tony hissed, betrayal clear in his voice as he hung up. 

“Pepper, arrange a press conference to satisfy Obadiah, I want him off my back. Make it invite only, you can decide which news crews are the best options, I trust your judgement. Just make sure there aren’t too many - I don’t want to overwhelm Peter.” 

“Already on it, Tony,” Pepper said with a sympathetic smile, and Tony nodded somberly. He’d actually rather keep Peter out of the spotlight altogether, but this needed to be done, otherwise the media would never stop hounding them.

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully. Pepper and Happy left Tony alone, knowing it was best to let him stew in his anger and then get over it on his own. The genius furious - mad that all Obadiah seemed to care about was the fucking company when Tony was literally a father now. He had a  _ son _ . 

The plane landed, and while Peterdidn’t wake up screaming when the air pressure changed, he did exactly that when the plane landed on the runway with a shudder. Tony would really have to talk to the pilot about softer landings if this trans-country travel was going to become a regular thing. 

Tony carted a still-sniffling Peter down the steps of the jet, Happy following behind with all of Peter’s bags (Tony had his own slung over his shoulder, because he wasn’t going to make Happy carry  _ everything _ . He was so considerate, and people out there said he had a heart of iron. Pffft) and Pepper was towing her quaint little suitcase behind her.

The drive to his Malibu home was short, but it felt like forever to Tony. He was bouncing in his seat, ecstatic at the idea of sleeping in his own bed, showing Peter his nursery, and seeing his bots again - they’d be very upset that he’d left them for so long, but he hoped they’d get over it once he told them about Peter. 

Tony somehow managed to annoy Pepper in the time it took for them to drive up the hill to the mansion. All he did was double, then triple, then quadruple check that she had organised everything for Peter’s nursery, just the way he had requested. 

The kid was gonna be spending a lot of time there, sleeping and playing and all that, so it had to be perfect. Tony was just a caring idealist that wanted the very,  _ very _ best for his beautiful son. That wasn’t a crime, was it? 

Pepper seemed to disagree. “I haven’t slept for twenty hours, and if you don’t shut up I swear to God I will tear your vocal chords out and replace them with yarn while you sleep,” she snarled in a dangerously low tone.

Tony shut up after that.

As Happy pulled in front of his doorstep, the genius grabbed Peter’s carrier and raced inside before the car had even stopped fully. It probably wasn’t the safest thing to do when he was holding his infant son, but he could work on responsible parenting practices later. He was familiar with the basics anyway from the countless hours he’d spent scrolling through website after website while Peter was sleeping (on his back because he’d be damned if he let his baby choke on his watch, or anyone’s watch, really).

After dumping everything in the living room and carefully scooping Peter into his arms, he set off through the house, giving his son a brief tour of the mansion that Peter clearly wasn’t paying attention to - he couldn’t spare valuable time for trivial things like touring the place he’d be living for the foreseeable future when he had a very important drooling session to get started on. 

After fondly watching Peter slobber all over his shirt for five minutes, Tony remembered the existence of his AI. “Oh, JARVIS, this is Peter, my adorable little boy.”

“He is very cute, sir.”

“Why thank you, JARVIS. It’s the good genes.”

“Yes, I’m sure Ms Parker had a great hand in the aesthetics of your child.”

“Okay I’m hurt, JAR. Why did I program you to be so mean?”

“If I remember correctly, sir, your exact words were, “variety is the spice of life.””

“Eh, past-me was crazy. I’ll leave you alone now and carry on with my tour.”

“Whatever you prefer, sir.”

Tony smiled at his AI, having forgotten how much fun their banter was, and then continued to introduce Peter to each and every single aspect of his new home. It was meant to be brief, but he had a penchant for rambling, and his home wasn’t exactly small. When they got to the room beside Tony’s, they stopped. Up until now, it had been just another empty space in the mansion, but now it belonged to his son. 

The billionaire gently wiped the drool from Peter’s chin and grinned at the little baby. This was what he was most excited for, even though Peter probably (definitely) wouldn’t care. Tony bumped the door with his hip, and it swung open to reveal the most incredible nursery he’d ever seen (of course it was incredible -  _ he’d _ designed it). His grin widened as he took in the room, noting that each and every detail was exactly as he had requested it.  _ Thank you Pepper _ .

The walls were a dark blue, dotted with little white stars in the shape of constellations. They were painted with glow-in-the-dark paint, and Tony thought it was the coolest thing in the world. He was actually a little jealous, and he was  _ absolutely _ going to use it to paint the Stark Industries logo on his next weapon design, just for kicks. 

There was a simple crib set up in one corner, with a pale yellow mattress, but Tony had installed his own tech in there to monitor Peter’s vitals. He’d read about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, and it had scared him out of his mind. 

Above the crib was a mismatched mobile that the genius had designed himself. A couple of tiny wrenches dangled in the center, and they made soft tinkling sounds whenever they bumped together. Around the outside, there were a few more glow-in-the-dark stars, a little paintbrush, a mini football and a cow, because the idea had come to him just as he was putting the finishing touches on the thing, and he was all about spontaneity. Really, it was just something interesting for Peter to look at while he was stuck on his back at night like a sad little turtle.

The rest of the room was relatively bland at the moment, apart from an extravagant bookshelf housing the majority of the picture books known to man, a changing table with all the sanitary items Tony would need while taking care of diaper-y business in close reach, and a chest of drawers for the heinous amount of clothing that Peter had managed to accumulate, thanks to Pepper. 

When the kid was a little older though, Tony was ready to go all out. He had plans, extravagant ones, that may or may not involve a TV corner, an arts and crafts table, and a mini indoor playground, among other things. Pepper would probably manage to talk him out of half of them, but he was definitely doing the playground thing. 

Peter’s bedtime was drawing closer, so Tony changed him into his pajamas. They were bright red this time, and had a cute, little, blue creature printed in the center. After settling the baby down in the cot, he grabbed a random book off the shelf and started reading, letting Peter hold onto his thumb as he did so. 

Tony wanted to get into the habit of reading to Peter before bed, because one of the websites had said it was beneficial to a baby’s language development skills, and it helped set a routine. It had failed to mention when he should start doing it, but it couldn’t hurt to get into it early on.

Peter must have been knackered from the drama on the plane, because he fell asleep before his dad had finished reading the second page. Tony gently removed his thumb from the baby’s grasp, closed the book and put it on the nightstand. He also double checked that the baby monitor was on (it was synced to his phone, and would alert him if anything happened to Peter while Tony wasn’t in the room). He also asked JARVIS if he was monitoring Peter, and received an amused, “yes, sir,” in response. He knew he was being _a_ _little_ overbearing, but Peter meant the world to him. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

With that sorted, he traipsed down to the lab on tired legs. He really needed to sleep (Parenting really took a lot out of a person. Tony was pretty sure he’d slept more in the past six days than he had in the month before Peter came into his life), so he was just gonna greet the bots, let them know he hadn’t abandoned them, and then head to bed like the responsible role model he was.

As soon as he typed in the password and opened the door, he was assaulted. Not by any real threat, but by a trio of angry robots with solid metal arms and abandonment issues, apparently. 

Their rapid beeping was deafening, and Tony was half afraid it would wake Peter up, so he stuck both of his hands out in a calming motion. “Guys, guys, I know you literally cannot function without me, but this greeting is a little overkill, don’t ya think? I have a sleeping child upstairs and if you wake him up I  _ will _ dismantle all three of you, got it?”

He took their sullen beeping as a yes, before they managed to process what he had said, and their excited beeping rose in volume again. “Seriously, what did I say about the beeping? Zip it. And yes, I am a father now, it’s shocking, I know, but apparently I’m pretty good at it. I mean, I haven’t  _ permanently _ traumatised him yet, and he seems pretty healthy to me, so I’m counting that as a win. I’m even doing the disgustingly gooey thing with the cute nicknames. It started off innocently, I swear. It was just Pete and Petey at first, but it’s gotten worse. I called him Pumpkin the other day - what does that even mean?”

DUM-E beeped questioningly, and the other bots tilted their arms to clumsily pat Tony’s shoulder.

“Don’t even ask, I’ve got no clue where it came from, but I love him guys, so much.”

The bots made an odd noise. It almost sounded like an “awwww,” but Tony had never programmed that into their repertoire of noises. Butterfingers let out a series of questioning beeps, and Tony paled.

“When can you meet him? Oh  _ no _ ,” he said vehemently, drawing out the ‘o’ sound dramatically. “That’s not happening for a very long time. Pete is currently as delicate as a daisy in the springtime, which means you and your destructive tendencies aren’t getting anywhere near him for the foreseeable future. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some changes around here,” Tony huffed, pushing through the crowd of bots and ignoring their disheartened pings. “Hush now you three, you’ll get over it.”

He went straight to his computer and transferred more photos of Peter than he knew what to do with onto it from the camera Rhodey had bought him. 

After much faffing about and struggling, he was able to insert all of the photos into their respective frames, and while a few of them weren’t quite aligned properly, and a couple of others had crumpled edges, they served their purpose well enough. 

His two favourites went on his main work bench, where he spent a large majority of his time. One of them was of Peter in Tony’s arms, the first day they’d met, his face turned towards the camera slightly, wearing a huge diaper that dwarfed his little body. That photo was one of the few of himself that Tony actually liked - he looked like he’d just found the center of his world (which he had, really) and his cheeks were flushed with happiness. 

The second was from the day they left the hospital. Peter looked a little perplexed by the giant headphones that his daddy had just put on his head, and his chubby cheeks were squished together slightly, giving him the appearance of a confused pufferfish. The other photos were scattered around the lab - some at his desk, a few on the benches of the kitchenette, and the rest placed wherever there was space.

Tony perched on top of one of his workbenches, and smiled when he saw Peter looking back at him from every angle. “Oi, JARVIS!”

“You called, sir?”   


“How’s Peter doing?”

“Master Peter has been sleeping soundly since you put him to bed twenty-seven minutes ago.”

“Alright, alert me as soon as he wakes up. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing.”

“I know, sir. You have given me these instructions four times. Five, now.”

Tony smiled at JARVIS’ teasing tone, and then revelled in the silence of the moment. While he was more than thrilled to have Peter, the past few days had been nothing but stress-filled and anxiety-riddled. 

His relaxation was interrupted by a buzz from his phone, and when he glanced at the screen he saw Pepper’s contact staring back at him.

_ I’m heading home for the night. Press conference tomorrow morning at eleven. Don’t be late, and both of you better look presentable. _

_ I resent that. I’m always on time and presentable. _

_ Oh really? Tell that to the guy who showed up three hours later, hungover and wearing a woman’s nightgown to a meeting with the president. _

_ That was one time, jeez. You and Rhodey really need to let that go. _

_ It’s not something that should have even happened once, Tony! Goodnight, don’t be late. _

_ Yeah, yeah. Drive safe and all that jazz. Toodle pip. _

Tony sent the message and a small smile curled his cheeks. Banter was fun, especially when the banter was with someone who was fed up with him and all of his irresponsible bullshit.

He stood up, groaning as his joints cracked. Christ, he was only thirty-one (he refused to believe that was old), but his body had just popped like a pot full of popcorn. He made his way up to his bed, before changing into an old t-shirt and a fluffy pair of sweatpants, telling JARVIS to wake him up at nine the next morning. That’d give him plenty of time to get himself and Peter ready.

August 17th 2001

Tony yawned and rolled over on his bed, a move he performed every morning when he woke up, and one he had thought he had perfected. He was proven wrong, however, when he misjudged how close he was to the edge of the mattress and ended up rolling right off the bed, landing with a thump on the carpeted floor. He inhaled a lungful of the dust that had been disturbed, and made a mental note to get the housekeeper in again. 

Well, at least he was awake now, and feeling oddly well-rested. Maybe having a normal sleep schedule that he followed regularly was finally paying off? Even better, Peter had only woken up twice last night, and so Tony had only had to stumble, still half-asleep, to his son’s nursery to calm him down a few times. 

Thanks to his incredible sleep, it only took one cup of coffee to get him into fully-functioning-human mode, instead of the usual four. He did chug a second mug down when he remembered that he had to attend a press conference with his newborn later that morning. It was an event that Tony knew would take a lot out of him, though he wasn’t sure which would be harder - trying to keep his son calm and relatively well-behaved, or answering the media’s questions with his usual ‘I-could-destroy-all-of-you-and-I-know-it’ attitude. 

He had to admit, he was more than a little scared to introduce Peter to the world. Would they fall in love with him as he had, or would they view him as nothing more than a mistake? 

To prolong the inevitable (and because he was more than a little bit chicken) he spent more time than was strictly necessary picking out his outfit. In the end, he went with the three-piece suit and smashing green tie that Pepper had picked out for him yesterday, and slipped a pair of sunglasses into his chest pocket, knowing that he’d need them later that day when dealing with the press. They always helped to tone down the flashing cameras, and acted as a shield between him and them. Should he invest in a pair for Peter?

Tony grinned as he imagined his little son wearing baby-sized sunglasses, the spitting image of his father. He glanced at his watch, and decided it was probably time to get Peter up, especially considering that he had to somehow bathe the kid in preparation for the conference.

To him, Peter was always the pinnacle of adorable, baby-ness, but he had an inkling that the media might not appreciate the whole ‘I-just-woke-up-in-a-puddle-of-my-own-piss’ vibe that the kid was currently putting off. So, with trepidation, he stripped Peter down and mentally prepared himself for the baby’s first bath at home. The last time, at the hospital, had been less than successful, but maybe Peter would be a little calmer now that he was in his own home? Maybe this time would be different now that it wasn’t such a new experience?

_ It was not different _ . 

Peter had cried, he’d screamed, he’d wailed, and Tony had begged and pleaded and cooed to no avail. The baby just did not like baths, plain and simple, and neither did Tony, for that matter. Seeing his son so upset was like torture, and knowing that he was the reason for the emotional pain was even worse.

And to top everything off, Tony discovered he had the foresight of a blind, old bat. It definitely hadn’t been a smart idea to get changed into his designer suit right before bathing a squirming, very unhappy infant, because he’d gotten splashed with soapy bath water more times than he could count. At least his tie was spared - he really liked it. 

Once he had changed into a less water-soaked suit, Tony turned his attention back to Peter, who was mostly dry by now, and still swaddled in his cow-patterned towel. The genius was loath to remove his son from the fluffy material, partly because he looked adorable, and partly because he had no clue how the baby would react to his father’s face after the Bath Incident.

Nevertheless, the time of the press conference was drawing nearer with each second he wasted, and he’d promised Pepper that he’d be there on time. Besides, he had to be a responsible role model for Peter… or at least that’s what he’d told himself last night as he’d dumped every single bottle of alcohol in the mansion down the drain. 

So, he plucked up his courage and tentatively hovered over the baby. To his surprise, there was a distinct lack of traumatised screaming from his son. Instead, the baby cooed at his father, and squirmed happily. Or at least, Tony thought the kid was happy… it was honestly kind of hard to tell. Newborns weren’t the best with facial expressions.

Luckily, Peter was a little angel while Tony dressed him, and that was the man’s first hint that he’d really gotten more than he deserved with his son. The baby lay placidly on his changing table while his father fretted over dozens of clothes, forcing the poor kid into outfit after outfit. 

Tony just needed the world to love his son as much as he did, though he wasn’t sure why the pathological obsession had sprung up. It wasn’t like he normally made a habit of caring what other people thought. 

Eventually though, Tony settled on a simple green onesie that matched his tie, and added in a cute little frog beanie for that extra bit of razzle dazzle. 

~~~

Despite Pepper’s doubts, Tony made it to the venue ten minutes  _ early _ . Was it possible that having Peter really was making him more responsible? 

They took the back entrance into the venue and met her in the side room that connected to the hall where the actual conference would take place. He grinned at her shock, and revelled in the way she scrambled to cover it up. It wasn’t often that Tony appeared exactly where he was supposed to be, ahead of schedule, but he loved to keep people on their toes. 

“Oh, Tony, you’re early,” she said in lieu of a greeting, her tone surprised. The woman smirked at his playfully hurt expression and grabbed a tablet that was resting on the back of a couch. “So, there's just fifteen different news crews out there. All of them have been hand-picked by me, and Happy did one of his background checks on all of them. You know how thorough those things are,” she chuckled, and Tony laughed along with her. Sometimes, he thought that he should officially promote the man to head of security or something, instead of just a lowly driver. Happy already did all of the duties a head of security would do, and got paid as such. All that was missing now was the proper title.

Eh, he’d get around to it at some point.

Pepper was still talking, glancing at her tablet every now and then to remind herself of something, and Tony had no doubt that she had a full list of tasks on there. 

“They’ve all agreed to behave like humans, instead of the rabid animals they usually like to embody. We’ve also made it abundantly clear that if any one of them acts out, every single person will be removed from the building and the conference will be cancelled.”

“Magnificent. You’ve done it again, Pepper. Now, no offence, but I can’t wait to get this over with.”

“Alright, well, It’s almost time anyway. Also, I love Peter’s outfit, you chose well.”

“What about my five-thousand-dollar, Brioni suit?”

“Sorry, Tony, no one likes people who go around fishing for compliments. ANd you don’t have a frog beanie, which is just unforgivable.”   
Tony scoffed, and Pepper smiled, before her tablet beeped and she glanced down at it. “Alright, they’re ready for you. Hurry up and go!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. He scooped Peter out of the carrier that he’d been lying peacefully in up until now, and took a deep breath before walking through the doors and out onto the stage. 

Immediately, cameras started flashing and reporters started screeching questions. So much for not behaving like rabid animals.

“Hey!” Tony shouted as Peter wriggled uncomfortably in his arms. “I have a newborn here with very sensitive ears and no one is going to appreciate it if he starts screaming, okay? Now stop screeching like a bunch of seagulls. God, who raised you?”

Immediately, a hush fell over the crowd and Tony smirked. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it? Here’s how it’s going to work. I’ll answer a few questions, and then me and my kid are going to be skedaddling. If he starts getting upset, we’re going to leave before that, so you better be on your best behaviours.” 

There were a few moments where the entire crowd looked anxiously at Peter, who was whimpering quietly. He calmed down slowly, and it seemed like everyone let out a collective breath of relief when the baby relaxed into his father’s arms.

A guy wearing a neon green scarf in the front row tentatively rose his hand, and Tony nodded at him. The guy’s eyes flicked to the little form in Tony’s arms, before almost whispering his question. “Can you give us a name?”

“Sure can, this is Peter Anthony Stark, everyone,” Tony said, shifting his hold on his son so that the reporters could see Peter’s face. There was a haze of clicks as photos were taken, but thankfully the reporters were intelligent enough to have turned off their flashes. 

“How’d he, uh, come into existence?” another reporter asked. 

“Well, I’m going to assume you all know about the birds and the bees?” Tony asked, his tone one of dry amusement. Everybody nodded. “Then I guess you can figure that one out yourself.”

A woman in a plaid coat stuck her hand up, and her demanding voice filled the room. “Who’s his mother?”

“Classified information,” Tony replied, shutting  _ that _ down immediately.

“ _ Where _ is his mother?” someone else piped up. God, these people were like dogs with a bone. 

“Unfortunately, she passed away shortly after Peter was born. There were a few… complications,” Tony answered, his tone heavy with guilt. He hadn’t had much time to dwell on it, but he was basically the reason Mary Parker had died. If she hadn’t met him that night, she would still be alive, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He’d gotten Peter out of that night, his sole reason for being had been born of death and pain, but Tony wouldn’t swap it for anything. He didn’t know if that was even a decision he had the right to make, but it wasn’t something that could be changed now, though that didn’t stop it from tearing his insides up with sharp guilt each time he thought about it.

“How will you run a company and raise your son at the same time?” A man asked, his suit so impeccably ironed that Tony was almost jealous. The question was enough to jerk him out of his contemplative self-hatred, and he was glad that the press had collectively decided to drop the subject of Peter’s mother.

“I’m taking two years of paternity leave, but a large majority of my work can be done at home, so even after I go back to work I’ll be able to care for him.”

“Is Peter your heir?” A reporter yelled from the back of the room, a hat perched jauntily on top of her bun, and Tony winced slightly. This conversation reminded him a little bit too much of the one he’d had with Obadiah on the airplane.    


“I mean, yes, but that hasn’t really been my first priority at the moment. Been a little preoccupied with adjusting to being a single, first-time father. You know how it is.”

“Do you know a fun fact about him?” Someone else called out, and Tony sighed in relief as his uncomfortable rambling was cut short.  _ This _ was something he could willingly talk about for years.   


“Well, he hates baths, the unsanitary little fiend.” Tony smiled fondly as he looked down at Peter. The genius couldn’t see it, but everyone raised their cameras to grab a heart-melting photo of the father-son duo, their faces set in warm smiles.

“Is it true that he was born prematurely?” Another reporter called out, ruining the little moment that Tony was sharing with Peter, much to everyone’s dismay.

Tony glanced up, and his eyes hardened a little as the memories of his son in the hospital, struggling to breathe and so very small. “Yep, by a month. He was in the NICU for a bit, which was  _ absolutely _ terrifying for me, as you can probably imagine, but he pulled through. He’s a very healthy, little boy now.”

The crowd nodded sympathetically, and a woman with curly, orange hair asked, “have you learnt any new skills so far?”

“Oh, yes, definitely. I can now say that I’ve mastered changing a diaper, heating up a bottle of formula one-handed, and burping a baby. Surprising, I know, but it’s the truth.”

On and on the questions went, until the baby in Tony’s arms started getting fussy. “Sorry, guys,” he said, his tone not at all sorry. “We’re going to have to cut this short. Petey’s getting impatient, he wants his bottle, and you  _ never _ keep food from a hangry Stark.”

The reporters laughed, and a few of them in the front row even waved goodbye to Peter as they left the stage, not that the baby had the capacity to care. That was fine, because Tony could do it for him - he was  _ ecstatic _ . 

As soon as they were through the doors, Pepper handed a grinning Tony a bottle of warm formula. “Thank you, Ms Potts. So, did they love him, or did they  _ love _ him?”

“That was incredible! Seriously, there’s an article up already, and guess what it’s called.”

“Tony Stark has made yet another amazing creation?”

“Oh my God, maybe you do need that therapist that Rhodey suggested to me. It’s for people that struggle with narcissism,” Pepper said, and Tony was genuinely scared that she was serious, before he caught sight of her teasing smile. “Anyway, it’s called ‘Peter Stark: Has He Finally Melted Tony Stark’s Iron Heart?’”

Tony smiled down at the baby in his arms, suckling greedily at the bottle. “Hear that, Pumpkin? You’re only a week old and you’ve already managed to figure out how to melt iron. Must be taking after your daddy, huh?”

“God, I hope not. But did you see how he had them wrapped around his little finger? SI approval ratings are already on the rise, so Mr Stane will be pleased.”

Tony scowled at the mention of his mentor. The man hadn’t contacted them since their little quarrel on the plane, and he didn’t know whether or not to be happy about that. On the one hand, Obadiah had been an ass, but on the other, the man was his last remaining connection to his father, and also his friend. 

Whatever, Tony certainly wasn’t going to be the first one to make contact, and so he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and tactfully changed the subject. “Yeah, uh, anyway, thanks for getting all this done. Peter’s introduction to the world went smoothly, and that’s all thanks to you.”

“It’s not a problem, Tony. This is my job, after all,” she assured, looking down at her tablet awkwardly.

The air in the room had changed. It was quieter, softer, and the change made Tony itch. He cleared his throat, and looked down at his son to see the baby had finished it long ago, and was lying in his father’s arms contentedly. He hated to disturb the kid, but his arms were getting tired, so he gently put Peter back in the carrier, buckling him in swiftly.

With one last look at Pepper, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze by staring at her tablet, he left the venue the same way he’d come in. 

Tony smiled to himself as he loaded Peter into the car. The world loved his son, though not nearly as much as he did. No one could ever begin to match the adoration that swelled in his chest when he looked at his Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so that's that. I hope you liked it, and feel free to leave a comment or kudos.  
So that was the last consecutive chapter, the next one will be set about a week later, and then the one after that when Peter is a month and a half and so on until Peter is three. That probably doesn't make any sense, but you'll see what I mean eventually.  
Peace out my dudes :D


	4. Grocery Shopping Is An Acquired Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I pumped out another chapter just before I went away. I'm literally gonna leave in half an hour. You're welcome guys.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Fair warning, it's probably really bad because I rushed it.

August 23rd 2001 

Tony had adjusted to the whole ‘dad’ thing quite well, if he did say so himself. He’d established a routine, and that was the first step to achieving normality, apparently. He always got Peter out of bed at nine am, unless the boy had woken up a few too many times the night before, in which case he let the baby sleep in a little more. Waking the kid was quite possibly Tony’s favourite part of the routine, because in those few seconds before the kid had really become aware of his surroundings, where his eyelids drooped and his perfect little lips stretched into a yawn, the father thought it was the most adorable sight.

Breakfast was always a messy affair, because Tony still hadn’t mastered the art of multitasking, and he often tried to make his own meal and heat up Peter’s bottle at the same time. Honestly, he didn’t know how Pepper managed to juggle all of her duties at the same time, but she had always been an incredible exception to the norm.

Once Peter was dressed in one of the outfits from his overflowing wardrobe, they got on with the day’s business. Most of the time, they meandered around the mansion, or Pepper organised something for them to do. Peter was too young to actually appreciate anything that happened, in fact, he was too young to even  _ stay awake _ for most of what they did, but Tony sure had fun.

They once had an entire day of skin-to-skin contact because the genius had read about the benefits of it the night before, and the past week or so had been filled with travel and dealing with the media, leaving no time for the supposedly necessary practice. Tony had spent the entire day with Peter, and the baby had dozed on his father’s bare chest the whole time. The man had to admit, the feeling of his son’s heartbeat against his own was a memory he would always hold dear. 

Pepper had arranged a photoshoot for Peter, and the results had been adorable, as expected. Some of the images were released to the press, who had been clamouring for more news on Baby Stark since the conference, but Tony kept his favourites to himself, framing them and placing them around the house until Peter’s face was staring back at him from all angles, no matter where he was in the mansion.

The genius had also dedicated an entire day to educating Peter on the cinematic classics of the past twenty odd years. It had been a pointless education, because the baby had slept through each and every one, but Tony had enjoyed himself, and the jolt of nostalgia he’d felt as he switched on The Goonies had been incredible. 

They hadn’t really left the property since they’d made it home, despite Pepper’s frequent urgings for them to get out of the house. Tony just didn’t feel the need to do so. He was content with the routine he’d created, and the daily lap that he and Peter took around the outside of the mansion was quite enough vitamin D for him, thank you very much.

Tony would deny it until the day he died, but he was terrified to take Peter into the outside world. The what-if’s swirling in his head reminded him of everything that could go wrong, and the panic that rose in his throat at the thought of leaving the relative safety of the mansion prevented him from seeing the irrationality of his worries. Pepper’s concerned face was what finally clued him in to the fact that he was being unreasonable - the woman was very rarely concerned about him, instead her expression was normally one of exasperation or barely-concealed frustration.

However, he didn’t actively do anything to change his nonsensical ways until the day he was left alone with Peter for the very first time. No matter what they had been doing throughout the past two weeks, someone had always been in the house with them, whether it was Rhodey, the housekeeper, or most frequently, Pepper.

The knowledge that a responsible adult, who could step in if necessary, did wonders for Tony’s (not exactly unfounded) anxiety. Logically, he knew that he was actually doing a pretty good job of taking care of Peter, despite his worry and vast inexperience. He hadn’t forgotten the baby’s mealtimes even once, and he read to the kid every night before bed. Tony never hesitated to answer his son’s distressed cries in the middle of the night, and there had only been one dangerously close call, where his exhausted, early-morning self had accidentally taken a sip of Peter’s formula and then tried to give the baby a hot cup of coffee. Luckily, he’d managed to catch himself before disaster had struck, and now he paid extra close attention to his actions in the morning.

_ Logically _ , he knew he’d probably be just fine on his own, but that didn’t stop him from freaking out when Pepper told him that she wouldn’t be at the mansion that day.

“What do you mean you can’t come in?” he spluttered, clutching the phone between his shoulder and his head as he went about making Peter’s morning bottle before the kid woke up.

“I told you this two days ago, Tony, and a week before that as well. I’m going to visit my mother for her birthday.”

“But-but I need you. You’re my assistant, I need to be assisted!”

“Tony, you haven’t had any work to do for two weeks, and you won’t until Peter turns two, if Mr Stane continues his silent treatment.”

“No, no, I’m not talking about that. I-I need you for Peter.”

“What do you mean? Is he okay?”   


Briefly, Tony considered pretending that Peter  _ wasn’t _ okay, just to bring her back to the mansion, but the genuine fear in Pepper’s voice for the baby’s well being quickly convinced him that it wasn’t a good idea. “Uh, yeah, yeah he’s fine, but he won't be if you leave me all alone with him for a whole day.”

“Is that what this is about? You don’t trust yourself to be alone with your own son?” 

The billionaire sighed. He should have known she’d cut right through the haze of panic in his mind and find the cause before he could even try and hide it. She’d known him for too long for that not to be the case. 

“Tony, listen, it’ll be fine. You’re a great father, and you’d do anything for Peter, which is why you’ve been fine for the past week. People may have been around, but we haven’t been helping you.”

“Yeah, but-”   


“No buts. He adores you, and you adore him right back. End of story.”

“I’m supposed to trim his nails today, Miss Potts! Do you really trust me with sharp objects around my infant son?”

“Tony, you’re going to be alone with Peter a lot throughout the next eighteen years and beyond. It’s normal for you to be a little nervous, but you really need to pull yourself together, for Peter.”   


“Yeah, for Peter.”   


“Now listen, you aren’t going to kill your son with nail scissors. You handle sharp objects all the time, and your hands are some of the steadiest I’ve ever seen. You’ll be fine. Just cut them while he’s asleep so that he doesn’t move unexpectedly.”   


“Pepper, you’re a genius! Thank you.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that, Mr Stark. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to board,” she huffed, though her tone was amused.

The phone beeped, signifying that the woman had hung up, and Tony sighed, slumping down onto the couch. It was almost nine am, which meant he’d have to wake Peter up soon. As the minutes ticked by, the genius felt a haze of fear overtake his mind. He was going to have to spend an entire day, alone, with his son. No one else would be there, watching him closely to make sure he didn’t permanently screw up his child. His heart was in his throat and he felt like he was just a few seconds away from throwing up the two coffees he’d already downed that morning. 

Christ, what if he messed this up so badly that Child Protective Services came knocking at his door to take Peter away from him. Was that a thing that could happen?

At eight fifty-eight am, the sound of a wailing child alerted Tony to the fact that Peter had woken up all by himself. He rushed to the nursery, greeting his very unhappy son with coos and gentle shushing noises. 

The baby had certainly gotten a little heavier in the two weeks he’d been alive (though he was still small by newborn standards), and Tony was reminded of that as he scooped Peter up.

“Hey, Pumpkin, you decided to wake up a few minutes early, huh? Why’s that?” Tony murmured, trying valiantly to flatten Peter’s fuzzy hair back down onto his scalp, to no avail. “Your diaper’s still clean, and I should hope so because I only changed that a few hours ago. Are you hungry, then? Let's go see what we can do about that, hm?”

They made their way into the kitchen, and Tony thanked his lucky stars that he’d had the foresight to make a bottle before Peter woke up, because when the baby was hungry he got  _ mad _ . Case in point, his son’s vigorous squirming only stopped when the tip of the bottle was in his mouth and he was finished greedily sucking the formula down.

“Alright, kiddie. What’re we wearing today?” Tony asked as he lay the baby on the changing table in the nursery. He knew that Peter couldn’t understand him, but he’d read that talking to babies helped their language skills develop, and he wasn’t going to be the one to hinder his child’s ability to talk. Besides, he rambled when he was nervous, and he was  _ very _ nervous at the moment.

He rifled through Peter’s draws for a while, sifting through the many onesies, jumpsuits, and other assorted garments. Peter owned enough outfits to clothe an entire army of babies, courtesy of Pepper (though Tony had to take at least partial blame for the kid’s overflowing wardrobe). 

Eventually, he stumbled across a little onesie that he had forgotten about, up until now. When he read the words printed on the plain white fabric of the stomach, he started chuckling. It was cheesy,  _ so cheesy _ , but he was a father now. Might as well embrace the dad jokes that came with that.

Once Peter was dressed in his ‘hello, I’m new here’ onesie, Tony realised that he didn’t have anything planned for the day. For a moment, the man considered spending yet another day cooped up in the mansion, but then Pepper’s words floated back to him.

It probably wasn’t good to keep Peter locked up in the house forever, like some genderswapped Rapunzel fairy tale, and he was beginning to wonder if staying in the relatively sterile environment of the mansion would weaken his son’s immune system. Tony didn’t want that to happen, and he definitely didn’t want to be the  _ reason _ it happened either.

In the end, he decided that the reward outweighed the risks. Pepper would be proud of him for finally leaving the house, Peter would get a stronger immune system (maybe? Biology wasn’t his specialty, and that was for a reason), and they didn’t have to do anything insanely dangerous. Despite Tony’s penchant for the dramatic, he didn't want the outing to take too long, because Pete was still a fragile little thing, and the genius would never forgive himself if he managed to accidentally harm the baby with this adventure.

Now that he’d decided he was definitely venturing outside, he had to figure out where, exactly he planned on going. Maybe he could do something trivial, as an induction into the regular world, both for Peter and himself. His life, filled with media and luxury, had been far from normal so far but now that he had a son, the tiny desire for simplicity in his chest that had been buried under years of learnt attention-seeking behaviour was finally blooming, and a normal life with Peter was all he wanted. 

Pepper had remarked that the usually well-stocked pantry was emptying at an alarming rate (that was on Tony, parenting made him snacky). Maybe he could go shopping? 

It seemed like a solid idea, so he set the kid down in the crib so that he had both hands free to probe through the pile of baby equipment in the corner. Pepper had been nagging at him to put it all away ever since they got back from the hospital. Obviously, that hadn’t happened yet, but it made it a lot easier to find what he was looking for - a baby pouch, which would let him carry Peter on his chest like a kangaroo joey, while keeping his hands unoccupied so that he could grab stuff off the shelves and push a shopping cart… or whatever it was that people did at grocery stores. 

All of the straps and adjustments required to put the stupid thing on took him a shamefully long time to figure out, but his genius brain pulled through for him in the end. 

Once it was on, he realised he probably should have changed into something more respectable than his oil-stained t-shirt and worn jeans, especially if he wanted to keep the unruffled facade that he’d managed to construct throughout the years. If he was being honest with himself though, the thought of taking the baby pouch off and then putting it on again made him want to scream. Besides, he’d probably fit into a grocery store setting better without his patented suit and sunglasses apparel anyway.

Tony decided it was a blessing in disguise, and figured he was as ready as he’d ever be. He scooped Peter up, stopping only to grab a pair of booties on his way to the garage where he stored his vast collection of cars. Tony may be content to show up at a random supermarket in a t-shirt and jeans, but there was no way he’d let his son out in public without shoes. The Stark’s were not  _ heathens _ . 

He chose his most subtle (and therefore safest) car for the impromptu outing, and once Peter was buckled into his rear-facing car seat, it was a simple matter of driving to the store. 

The action was easier said than done, though. The hesitation to leave the safety of his home, combined with the uncomfortable way the straps of the baby pouch dug into his chest, resulted in a few very tension-filled minutes of stalling on Tony’s part. It would have been a smart idea to take the pouch off before he got in the driver’s seat, but he wasn’t confident in his ability to put it back on at the supermarket without embarrassing himself.

In the end, he got his shit together and ignored the fear sitting heavily in his chest. That was how he got himself through most of the situations he didn’t enjoy, and it seemed to be working, because after much grumbling and very quiet swearing, they made it to the grocery store. 

Peter had fallen asleep during the short drive, testament to just how long Tony had sat in the car while he warred with himself about whether or not he should actually go to the store. The jolt that came with his daddy parking the car was enough to wake him up, and he did so with a little snort that the billionaire thought was the most endearing thing he’d ever heard.

Peter didn’t like the pouch very much at first, his little frog legs kicking so violently that Tony had a tough time getting all of the kid’s extremities into the right holes. He settled down as soon as he was all the way in though, and now Peter’s tufted head was resting against Tony’s chest, right above his heart. If the billionaire wasn’t surrounded by people, or keen to keep his dignity, he would’ve taken a selfie. Instead, he just wrapped his arms protectively around the little bundle attached to his front, one hand on his back, the other cupped supportively under his bottom, and swaggered confidently inside, grabbing a basket at the entrance with the hand that was previously resting against Peter’s back.

~~~

Tony Stark did not like shopping. 

It was not an opinion. It was a fact of life.

There were so many versions of the same product, and the prices were outrageous. Who would pay seven whole dollars for four pounds of plain flour? Money wasn’t something he had ever worried about, but seriously. The regular shoppers in the store were being scammed so terribly, it was practically criminal. 

While the products irked him to no end, the actual people were the worst thing about the place. Tired shop attendants roamed the aisles, asking if anyone needed help in nasally voices. Creepy old men tottered around, muttering about the cauliflower on their shopping list, while annoying teenagers flew through the crowds, their arms filled with enough junk food to give the entire state of California type two diabetes. Crazy cat ladies bashed each other with their moth-eaten handbags, clawing over the last few tins of pedigree cat food, and God, _the_ _families_. They rolled around the shop at a snail's pace, with their humongous shopping carts filled to the brim with food and screaming children. His kid had only been born thirteen days ago, and he was better behaved than the hooligans hanging off their mother’s and demanding to eat everything they saw. 

The whole store had an atmosphere of desperation and over-priced goods, and Tony hated it.

_ Finally _ , he’d found everything he needed and was able to get his ass out of there. From now on, literally anyone else could do the shopping because he was never doing it again, not even if there was a gun to his head and a knife to his throat. At least Peter had gotten his indictment into the world, and although it hadn’t been as grand as Tony had hoped for, they’d still gotten out of the house, which was a victory in and of itself. 

Aiming for a quick getaway, he strapped Peter back into his car seat and pulled the pouch off. He would rather die than deal with another twenty minute drive while that thing was pushing all of it’s cursed buckles into his ribs. 

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Peter had been a complete angel in public, but a little while into the drive, the baby started wailing mercilessly, the shrieks so high that Tony was sure his ears were about to start bleeding. 

“Aw no, it’s okay, Pumpkin. Hey now, don’t cry, daddy’s right here, promise,” he soothed, though his attempts were fruitless. His usual methods of calming his son down all required mobility and contact, but he was stuck in the driver’s seat, and they were in the middle of a busy road, so he couldn’t even pull over. 

The screaming was getting louder, and Tony knew it was time to resort to Plan B - B for Back In Black.

He started humming the tune, and Peter’s sorrowful wailing eventually faded away, replaced by pathetic sniffles. Poor kiddie, all he wanted was his daddy. 

All of a sudden, the bluetooth earpiece, which he’d put in the cup holder of the car a while ago and had not yet removed, lit up, signalling he had a call. 

Tony fumbled for it without taking his eyes off the road (there was no way he was crashing this car with his son inside), inserting it into his ear with practiced ease. “Hey, yeah, I’m kinda driving right now and my kid’s in the back, so unless this is a life-or-death situation, could you call me back later?”

“Tony, why did you go shopping?” Pepper asked, her voice business-like, but confused. The billionaire startled as her unexpected voice filtered through the earpiece.

“What? Pepper? How’d you know that? I thought you were with your mom?”

“I am, but there’s a news article about it and it’s already trending. Heading: Has Daddy Stark Been Domesticated? There’s even a photo! Glad to see you’re using that pouch I got you, by the way.”

“What? Send JARVIS the article, I’ll have him display it on the windshield.”

“No way, not until you pull over. There’s a baby on board!”

“Fine, fine, I’m pulling over,” Tony relented as he flashed his turning signal, glad that the street he was on only had a few cars on it. As he maneuvered his way onto the side of the road, he said, “there, I’m parked. Now send it to me.”

“Alright, sending now,” Pepper said, her voice accompanied by the small ding of a notification on his phone. 

“Thanks, Miss Potts.”

“Not a problem, but you still didn’t answer my question. Why were you at the shops?”

“I don’t know. I’d finally convinced myself to get out of the house and I’d heard you mention we needed more food, so I went and got it. It was gonna be Peter’s induction into the regular world, but it was terrible, Pepper. Everything was so expensive there, and don’t even get me started on the people.”

“Welcome to the real world, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve gotta read this article now, bye, Potts.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Mr Stark.”

After the call ended, he clicked on the link that Pepper had sent him and was met with a grainy photo of himself, grabbing a can of beans off of a shelf with one hand while the other rested on Peter’s back. 

Damn his iconic goatee, it made disguising himself all the more difficult. He was pretty sure the cashier had recognised him and was going to say something, but had shut her mouth when she caught sight of Peter, an action he was very grateful for. He’d slipped an extra fifty dollar note into the pile of notes he’d given her for the groceries, walking away before she could call him out on it.

The knowledge that he wasn’t even able to go grocery shopping with his son without being photographed bothered him to no end. It was annoying at best, and downright creepy at worst. He couldn’t escape the prying lenses of the paparazzi and the public, and now Peter had been caught in his spotlight too. Would his son ever have a normal life, like Tony so wished for him?

The billionaire allowed himself to wallow for a little longer, before steering the car back onto the road and making his way back home. Peter needed a nap and some skin-to-skin bonding time, two things that could be done simultaneously.

As soon as they made it through the kitchen door, Tony dumped the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and headed to Peter’s room. 

There, he changed the kid’s diaper, because he’d done his business in it at some point and hadn’t cried to alert his daddy, God knows why. Maybe they could add ‘doesn’t like having diaper changed’ to the long list of things that Peter was uncomfortable with.

Tony didn’t put his son back in his onesie afterwards, instead carting him into the living room and shucking off his own shirt. This kind of bonding, skin-on-skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, was his favourite, and Peter wasn’t the only one who found it relaxing enough to fall asleep during. 

He lay down on the couch, carefully arranging the baby so that his small form was curled comfortably on his chest, head resting up near Tony’s collarbone. The genius kept his large, calloused hand on the baby’s back, rubbing up and down methodically as he switched the television on to a random channel. He was more focused on Peter than the people on screen though, watching as his son’s blinks lengthened until his paper-thin, lavender eyelids stayed shut and the boy’s tiny mouth hung open slightly. That would result in a puddle of drool on his chest later, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care.

After an hour of Tony watching Peter sleep peacefully, the baby woke up again, signaling that he was hungry with a loud wail. The man got up carefully, and made a bottle for the baby (one-handed, may he add). Once Peter was finished sucking down the formula, his eyes grew heavy again, and Tony carried the baby back to his room, where he changed him into his pajamas and tucked him into the crib. The kid didn't even need to be read to in order to fall asleep, and Tony worried he might have tired the baby out a little too much with the outing.

The genius returned to the living room to fetch his shirt and then stopped off at the nearest bathroom to fetch a pair of nail scissors. The moment that he had been dreading all day was upon him, and he was terrified, but Peter’s nails were getting way too long, to the point where Tony was afraid the baby might accidentally scratch himself. 

Both Pepper and multiple websites had said that it was best to cut little children’s nails while they were asleep, so that was what he was going to do.

In the nursery, Tony chickened out way too many times. This entire day had just been a series of ‘I should… but I really don’t want to’ for him. It was just that Peter’s fingers and toes were so small! One wrong move and his son could be missing the tip of one of his digits, and it’d be all Tony’s fault. He didn’t know if he could live with that type of guilt hanging over him.

After a few deep breaths, he’d managed to calm himself down enough to cut the first nail. What a milestone for him, right? He really should code applause into JARVIS’ system, because he certainly deserved it at the moment. He’d just cut his son’s first fingernail without killing the poor kid.

Peter’s nails were so small that it only took one snip to trim each one to an acceptable length. Nineteen snips later, and Tony was done. His heart was pounding and his stomach was so tied up he’d probably be diagnosed with twisted bowels in the near future, but other than that, he felt great. Triumphant, even. He’d managed to cut his son’s nails without physically disfiguring him or waking him up. 

_ I’m such a good dad. _

Tiptoeing out of the room with a handful of baby nails (there was no way he was going to leave them in the cot with his son) he smiled to himself. He’d had his doubts, but his first day completely alone with Peter had gone surprisingly well. He’d even managed to go near the baby with a sharp object and, you know,  _ not _ kill him. 

So yeah, minus the whole grocery store debacle (because the only positive thing that had come from that was his newfound ability to put that ridiculous baby pouch on and then drive with it still attached to him), today had been good. Great even. 

He and Peter were going to do just fine together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there won't be another chapter for like five or six days. Sorry about that.  
So this was kinda a milestone for Tony, not Peter, but the next one will definitely be a Peter milestone.  
Feel free to comment or kudos, thanks for reading :)


	5. Smiles and Shrek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! I'm back with another chapter.  
Peter's one-and-a-half months old in this one, but also three months old. You'll see what I mean.  
So I now have a ton of ideas for my last chapter, thanks to my holiday. It's gonna be lit so stick around for that.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

October 2nd 2001

Peter was a happy baby. He didn’t cry often, and it was easy to console him when he did. As long as he was in the arms of someone he both knew and liked, Peter was content. Sure, the list of people that fit those requirements was short - Pepper, Rhodey, and Tony himself, being the only people on it at the moment, though they were working on getting Happy included too - but it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like Peter hung around many other people anyway.

Despite the fact that the kid was a happy baby, Tony still hadn’t seen the kid’s first smile. It was an action that the father wanted to see more than anything in the world - he was sure that it would be radiant - but the time hadn’t come yet. 

“He’ll smile when he’s ready, Mr Stark,” Pepper would remind him, with a soft smile and an even softer voice, as if Tony didn’t know that already. He’d done his research. He knew that full-term babies normally smiled at around the one-and-a-half month mark. He knew that it wasn’t unusual for premature babies to be slightly delayed when it came to hitting their milestones. He knew all of that, but it didn’t stop him from holding out hope that Peter’s first smile would make an appearance any day now.

The genius was unabashedly going out of his way to make the moment happen, despite Pepper’s disapproval. She thought that he should just leave Peter to do it on his own, but Tony didn’t let that deter him as he took part in all manner of escapades, each with the sole purpose of forcing a grin out of his son. 

A camera was always in reach, because the billionaire also desperately wanted to capture it on film. The possibility of forever being able to look at Peter’s first smile was too good to pass up.

It had been a whole week since the baby had reached one-and-a-half months, and the billionaire was getting more and more impatient as each day passed.

Peter had already managed to tick off a few things on his developmental journey - that was how the kid’s pediatrician had phrased it. Her name was Doctor Lantzer, and she was a bit odd, but she was also regarded as one of the best in the business, so Tony wasn’t complaining. Besides, the media had always said he carried an air of abnormality about him. Birds of a feather, he supposed.

The baby had managed to hold his head up for a little bit, and was in the process of strengthening his neck muscles enough to hold it up for longer than a few seconds. He responded to sounds now too, though it seemed that he only consistently reacted to his dad’s voice (Tony wasn’t going to lie, the knowledge that his baby knew his voice made him smile like a buffoon). 

Peter had also made his very first noise (aside from upset wailing), and the simple, “ooh” sound had almost been enough to reduce Tony to tears. Almost. But by some miracle, he’d managed to keep himself together. 

After he’d calmed down somewhat, and given Peter a long, long cuddle for his beautiful vocal accomplishment, the billionaire had frantically called Rhodey. His best friend had insisted on getting daily updates about his pseudo nephew, and Tony was happy to oblige, partly because he loved talking about his son, and partly because he was just a little scared of what the Air Force Colonel would do to him if he didn’t do what the man had asked.

He’d also run to find Pepper. She had been somewhere in the huge mansion, and it took a ridiculously long time for him to figure out where she was. Not for the first time, he cursed his need for frivolity and drama. It would have been so much easier to tell her the news if he’d had about seven less bedrooms. 

The woman was still working dutifully as his assistant, despite the fact that she didn’t really have any ‘official’ work to do, considering he was on paternity leave. Pepper claimed that looking after Tony was a job that she couldn’t take a break from, and he agreed with her. He was so busy looking after Peter that he sometimes forgot to look after himself, though he was definitely doing better now that he had a tiny child to remind him that he was needed. Tony couldn’t take care of his son if he was passed out on the floor because he’d failed to meet one of his body’s basic needs.

Nevertheless, Pepper was a blessing, and it was probably time that she got a raise. 

They’d all been ecstatic about Peter’s milestone, and as they collectively celebrated over a phone call, because Rhodey was stuck at an Air Force base, it really hit Tony. He had a  _ family _ . A proper one filled with love and joy.  _ God _ , it was cheesy but it was also true. He’d built himself a whole world, despite the words of everyone who told him it wouldn’t be possible, that he couldn’t be loved.

He had a healthy, growing son, a best friend and a... well, he didn’t really know what he and Pepper had going at the moment. She was more than a friend, their almost flirtatious banter proved that much, but Tony wasn’t sure what it all meant. He didn’t have time to dwell on it right now anyway. He had an infant son who depended upon him. 

It took Doctor Lantzer’s professional opinion to convince him that Peter’s smile couldn’t be forced. All Tony could do was keep the baby as happy as possible, and so that was what he resolved to do.

Pepper was having yet another day off, something she hadn’t been able to do at all, really, back when Tony was the fulltime CEO of Stark Industries. Because of that, she was taking advantage of her lessened duties in order to visit her mother more often. The older woman’s health was taking a dip, and it was worrying Pepper to no end. Tony wouldn’t be the one to begrudge the woman the chance to see her sickly mother, and so he let her go without complaint.

Tony and Peter slugged their way through their usual morning routine. The nauseating repetitiveness of the last month or so was starting to get to the billionaire. He wouldn’t trade what he had now for anything, but the one thing that he did miss from his old life was the unpredictability. His brain had never liked being idle, and while parenting was definitely a challenge, he was actually starting to get a handle on it. Tony was sure that something would change and a whole new host of difficulties would pop up soon enough, but for now that wasn’t the case.

Peter was still too young to do anything very interesting, and while the genius hadn’t lost his fear of going out of the house, it had abated slightly. The only issue was that he didn’t have any ideas on where to go, so he was restricted to the occasional stroll down the hill when Peter was too fussy to fall asleep on his own. Something about the gentle, rocking motion of the stroller was calming to the baby, and it never failed to soothe him when even Tony wasn’t enough.

They started the day with tummy time, which was something new and recommended by Doctor Lantzer. Peter lay flat on his stomach on a padded mat while his father tried to play with him, without success. The baby didn’t really enjoy the new addition to their routine, and so the genius spent a whole five minutes trying to get the baby to stop wailing, before he gave up. According to Doctor Lantzer, that was considered normal behavior, which was why they had to increase the amount of time that Peter spent on his belly in small increments. 

Tony knew that tummy time was beneficial, but God, he hated it. Almost as much as he hated giving Peter baths. Seeing his boy upset was the worst kind of pain, and the billionaire was not a fan of it.

Once the baby was adequately soothed from the traumatic experience, Tony was at a loss for what to do next. He’d spent so much time with Peter, and he’d loved every second of it, but his son’s young age prevented them from doing quite a few things, and the list of activities that they  _ could _ do was alarmingly short.

Tony’s gaze landed on a stack of papers that Pepper had left on the kitchen counter yesterday. He struggled to remember what she had said about them, but his brain came up empty. Shrugging, the genius picked them up with one hand, careful not to disturb Peter, who had somehow fallen asleep in his daddy’s arms during the two minute span where Tony’s attention had been elsewhere.

After situating himself and his son on the couch, he flipped through the stack. The papers were really dozens of pamphlets for various baby activities in the area.

Baby bongos? Yeah, no way was he going to listen to a bunch of tonedeaf babies bang on tiny drums for an hour each week, especially not when Peter couldn’t even do it himself yet. 

Swimming classes?  _ As if _ . Did Pepper really think he’d let his one-and-a-half month old baby into the disease-infested waters of the public swimming pools in Malibu? 

Baby yoga... was that actually a thing? Peter wasn’t old enough to  _ sit up _ , let alone twist himself into the pretzel-like positions that he’d seen Pepper do on occasion. 

Tony was getting increasingly frustrated as he flipped through the stack. None of these were viable options, but he was so  _ bored _ . After briefly glancing at about four more worthless activities, one finally caught his eye.

Dad’s Group. Huh, okay,  _ maybe _ that was enough to interest him, at the very least. He’d just have to do some lowkey internet stalking in order to find out what this ‘Dad’s Group’ entailed.

After fifteen minutes of solid research, Tony had all the information he needed. Dad’s group was essentially Mother’s Group, but for fathers. They met at the park every Tuesday, at two pm, to socialise… or something. The brochure had said the purpose of the group was to ‘create a friendly, supportive environment, in which fathers in all types of situations can make friends that have experienced similar things to them’. The promise of people who understood the trials and tribulations of parenthood, and also had children that Peter would be able to socialise with, was too good to pass up. In some crazy twist of fate, as if Tony’s life was just a badly written novel by a lazy author, the group would be meeting that afternoon. There wasn’t any harm in trying it out, right?

Three-and-a-half hours later, the genius found himself pushing Peter’s stroller towards a group of five men sitting at a picnic bench. He’d contacted the guy who ran the group, and the man had enthusiastically told him about the table they frequented, and said he was welcome to join as long as he brought snacks. After the call was over, Tony had burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter at the man’s rather unfortunate name - Marvin Bogey.

As the genius drew closer to the table, a man in his mid-forties with round, wire-rimmed glasses and floppy, greying hair, who Tony assumed was Marvin, stood up and waved at him. The four other people sitting at the table whipped around at the action, and Tony winced at their reactions, ranging from confused, to shamelessly staring at him and Peter with wide eyes. 

“Mr Stark! I’m glad you could make it. Come over here and meet the guys!” Marvin called.

Tony smiled as he sat down in an open spot, and the plump man next to him grinned back. Tony felt some of the twisting trepidation in his gut ease at the friendly display. Despite his confident outward appearance, he was freaking out. 

“Uh, how’s everyone doing? I’m Tony Stark, as you all probably know, but you can call me Tony. This is my son, Peter, and we both  _ really _ needed to get out of the house,” Tony said. He received various greetings from the group, and the man sitting next to him stuck out his hand for the billionaire to shake. 

“Hi, I’m Henry Leeds. This is my son, Edward, but we think he likes Ned better. He’s almost six months old,” Henry said kindly, and Tony nodded as he subtly assessed the man. He was polynesian, maybe, and quite chubby, with a bald head and warm, open face. The baby that was perched in his lap was also a little bit on the plump side, and gurgling happily as spit rolled down his chin and onto the bib he wore around his neck.

The rest of the fathers introduced themselves, and everyone warmed up to Tony’s presence as time went on. 

There was Jacob  Symanski, a single dad just like the genius, with a two year old named Lacey. He didn’t offer any information as to where Lacey’s mother was, and Tony didn’t ask. He knew it could be a sensitive issue.

Aaron Walsh had a twelve-month-old called Conner. His wife was a high ranking army official, and as a result spent a lot of time away from home, so Aaron was alone with his son, often for months at a time. 

The last person to introduce himself was Ryan Gupta, and he had spent a large portion of his adult life trying to adopt a child with his partner, only recently succeeding. He had flown all the way to Ethiopia so that he could collect his new nine-month-old son, Kofi, and absolutely adored him (though Ryan wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the group was obsessed with their children, including Tony).

Marvin himself was up to his sixth child, a newborn named Nina. From what the billionaire had heard while the men talked, he put together that Marvin didn’t want any more. The man loved his children with all his heart, but the cost of living was expensive enough, and adding six kids to the equation didn’t help much. Also, Marvin hadn’t slept a full night in eleven years, and he was sick of it.

However, the man was a certified parenting expert, what with all the experience. The whole reason he started the group in the first place was so that he could serve as the mentor that he wished he’d had when he was a first-time parent.

As it turned out, Dad's Group was fun. All they really did was sit around and complain, but it was nice to get things off their chest. 

Ryan hadn’t slept at all in three days, Jacob really needed a shower but didn’t have the time, and Marvin’s wife was a lovely woman but also incrediobly bossy (that was  _ why _ he had six kids). Tony thought it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who occasionally put their kid’s diaper on backwards.

The genius chimed in every now and again, but he spent most of his time sitting and listening. The group had a rowdy and energetic dynamic, but not overwhelmingly so, and they certainly weren’t the uptight assholes in tailored suits that Tony was used to. 

Really, they were just a group of guys who were on the same parenting train as him. Though they were all in varying situations, each and every one of them could relate to the terror and joy that fatherhood brought.

Henry Leeds eventually engaged him in a conversation, and it seemed that they had quite a bit of common ground to discuss. The man was a computer engineer himself, and so could keep up with Tony’s ramblings when the conversation turned towards the finer points of mechanics. 

Ned and Peter also got along very well, although Peter didn’t actually do much in the interaction. He seemed happy enough in the older boy’s company, even when Ned started clumsily patting Peter’s head, almost hard enough to hurt. 

Once the hour was up, everyone packed their things away, said goodbye, and headed towards their respective cars. While Tony was buckling Peter into his stroller, Marvin came up behind him.

“Hey, Tony, how’d you like it?”   


“Yeah, it was really good. Nice to get out of the house and talk to someone who isn’t my one-and-a-half month old kid.”

“I bet it was. So you’ll be back next week then?” 

“Sure, I’ll be there,” Tony said, playing it cool to disguise just how much fun he’d had that day (he had a reputation to uphold, after all). Marvin looked pleased as he walked away, holding Nina tightly.

Once they were home, Tony put Peter down for a nap. All the sunshine and excitement had apparently tired the baby out, because he slept soundly for three whole hours, in which Tony answered all of the emails he’d gotten since he’d last checked them about two weeks ago, and then ventured down to the lab. 

He didn’t go there nearly as often as he used to, and so greeting the bots was a whole ordeal. Apparently, they had a whole lot to tell him, because their incessant beeping lasted for at least five minutes. Tinkering with the little side projects that had been gathering dust in his mind was a suitable use of his brain, and it kept him occupied for the rest of Peter’s nap. 

Two hours later, Tony had an aching neck and a tired brain, but there was a satisfied smile planted on his face as he looked down at the plans he had created. It was an adapted version of the arc reactor that his father had designed. The energy it created would not only be renewable, but enough to power his company and all the machines it used, single handedly. 

“Sir, Master Peter has awoken from his nap and is crying, possibly for you.” JARVIS’ voice echoed through the lab and the billionaire jolted out of his seat, muscles screaming in protest as he hurried towards the nursery. 

“Thanks, JAR,” he muttered quickly as he left the lab. Once he was closer to his son’s room, it was easier to hear the kid’s wails, and Tony picked up the pace. 

Pushing open the door, he scooped up the baby, rocking his small form gently in his arms. “Hey, Pumpkin. Hey kiddie, it’s okay. Daddy’s here. Sorry I took so long.” 

Soon, Peter’s wails quieted and the baby opened his eyes. His gaze settled on his father’s face, which was hovering over him and before Tony knew what was happening, his son’s face had split into the widest, gummiest grin the billionaire had ever seen. 

The smile lasted for three glorious seconds before it disappeared, and Tony was left to stare at Peter in wonder. It occurred to him somewhere in the back of his mind that he hadn’t gotten a picture, but he pushed that thought aside for now. He didn’t need anything to rain on his parade at the moment.

Peter was patient as he waited for his daddy to get himself together, and lay contentedly in Tony’s arms, cooing occasionally.

“Pete. Oh my God,  _ Petey! _ ” Tony breathed, his breath hitching as he stared down at the baby in his arms. There were tears making their way down his cheeks, but no one would ever know that except Pepper, who had taken one look at him when he told her what happened and said, “you cried, didn’t you?” 

His baby had smiled, honest to God  _ smiled _ , when he’d seen Tony’s face hovering above him. The genius was floating on a cloud, walking on sunshine - whatever it was that the cool kids said these days. His son had  _ smiled _ because of him.

“You did it, baby! You smiled for daddy! Oh, I’m so proud of you. We need to go tell Pepper and Uncle Rhodey!” Tony grinned once he’d wiped the tears from his cheeks. His kid had smiled, and it was a radiant thing.

November 18th 2001

Tony had been right in assuming Peter was a happy baby. Once the kid had learnt how to smile, he hadn’t stopped. Each one of the precious grins made the billionaire’s heart burst with pride and happiness. 

Both Doctor Lantzer and Marvin said that Peter was one of the most cheerful babies they’d ever seen, and that he was bound to bust out a laugh any day now. Needless to say, Tony started doing the same thing he’d done when he was trying to get Peter to smile - plan out an assortment of activities for the baby, just on the off chance that he’ll find one of them enjoyable enough to laugh.

They went to Dad’s Group (which both Peter and Tony loved attending) and played peekaboo as well as a host of other mindless games that babies seemed to enjoy. Tony even spent half an hour blowing raspberries on Peter’s stomach, which was enough to make the baby to grin widely, but a laugh still didn’t make an appearance.

Peter had hit some other milestones now that he was three months old. He could hold his head up steadily, his movements were a lot smoother, and he’d mastered an adorable high-pitched squeal that usually accompanied his smiles. It was an almost-laugh, but not quite there yet.

They’d also been progressing with tummy time, and Peter had even managed to do a mini pushup the other day, where he lifted his head and shoulders off the mat he was lying on for just a few seconds.

Tony couldn’t be prouder of his little boy, but he was still desperate to hear the kid’s laugh. If it was anything like Peter’s smile, there was no doubt it would make Tony so happy that he exploded. Not necessarily a bad thing, in Pepper’s opinion. It would mean less work for her.

Once Tony had gotten himself and Peter through their morning routine, the pair settled down on the couch. The genius had spent an hour tickling Peter, trying to get him to laugh, but hadn’t been successful, so he decided a quiet movie day featuring Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Monsters Inc. and Shrek - all kid’s movies that had been released that year (though Tony had to admit that he, an adult, had quite enjoyed them). They weren’t technically out on DVD yet, but he was  _ Tony Stark _ \- he could get some movies for his kid without batting an eye.

They worked their way through the movies, Tony explaining each character to his son and making dry commentary when the moment presented itself, not that Peter could appreciate his wit. The billionaire was in the middle of pointing out the flaws in the animation of Shrek, and how exactly he would do better if he could be bothered to buy the right equipment, when the dragon came on screen. Peter - who was sitting on his daddy’s lap and staring at the tv but not really comprehending what was happening, likely entranced by the colours and motion - shrieked, and Tony stared worriedly down at his baby. 

However, he didn't have to worry for long, because soon after, Peter let out a melodious laugh. It was high-pitched and tinkling, like little bells, and it was the best thing Tony had ever heard. 

“Petey! You laughed, oh my God, you actually laughed!” Tony cried, scooping the baby into his arms and tickling his tummy. Peter laughed again - it was just like his smiles, once he’d learnt how to do it he didn’t  _ stop _ . Not that Tony was complaining.

The genius spent the rest of the afternoon doing everything in his power to hear his son’s adorable laugh again, which didn’t take much effort. Peter laughed when his daddy pulled a funny face, he laughed when he was tickled, he laughed when Tony blew raspberries on his little belly, he laughed when he was peppered with kisses and Tony’s goatee scratched him gently. He just  _ laughed _ .

When the father’s phone rang, he answered without looking at who was calling. “Stark speaking.”

“Tony! I’ve got a bit of free time before dinner. How’s Peter? How’re you? You sound suspiciously happy.”

“Platypus? Why are you calling?”

“I need my daily update on my nephew. You called earlier but I was supervising a training exercise and missed it. So, tell me how little Peter’s been doing.”

“Rhodes, you’ll never guess what just happened. We were watching Shrek-”

“Hang on, you were right when you said I’d never guess what happened, because the Tony Stark I know would never willingly watch a children's movie.”

“I’m a changed man, Rhodey, but enough bullying. I’m trying to tell you something important!”

“Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

“Okay, so we were watching Shrek, and I think Peter got scared by the dragon, or maybe it was the roar, it was pretty loud. Now that I think about it, he could have just been staring at the colours. I don't know-”

“Tones, you’re rambling.”   
“Right, anyway, he shrieked and then… he  _ laughed _ . At himself. Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ, your little boy is growing up so fast! Smacking down his milestones left and right.”

“No, no, don’t even  _ say _ that. What a terrifying thought. Anyway, now he wont stop laughing! It’s adorable, do you wanna hear it?”

“Uh, duh, that shouldn’t even be a question.”

Tony put Rhodey on speaker and tickled Peter’s stomach - he’d found that was a guaranteed way to get his son to laugh. Sure enough, the baby let out yet another adorable, tinkling laugh and Rhodey “awwed” softly. 

There was a shout on the other man's end of the call, and he said, “I’ve gotta go, Tones, but give Peter a cuddle from me and tell him he has a very cute laugh.”

“Will do, see you later, Rhodey!”

“Bye, Tony,” the older man responded, before hanging up. 

Tony stared at Peter for a few seconds before he jerked himself out of his daze and tried to contact Pepper. She didn’t respond to his calls or messages so he left her a voicemail heavily featuring Peter’s giggles. She’d probably be mad at him for sharing such important news through a voicemail, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he was just going to figure out all the ways he could make Peter laugh. You know, for future reference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rightio, that's chapter five. I hope you guys enjoyed it, thanks for reading!  
Feel free to leave a comment and kudos :)


	6. Tony Stark Has The Flu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! I am back with a new chapter after a terrible case of writers block, but I watched some B99, looked at some memes and got over myself. Also watched Deadpool 2 - I highly recommend it, it was beautiful and I'm still high on the endorphins and dopamine it pumped through me which is why I'm posting this instead of getting a good nights sleep like I should be doing. Keep in mind it's probably best to watch the first Deadpool before you watch the second.  
Thanks for coming to my TED Talk, have fun reading (or don't, it's probably really bad and I apologise in advance).

November 21st 2001

“For the last time, Tony, no! Stop asking.”

“Aw, come on Ms Potts, ple-ase?” Tony begged, dragging out the last word in an annoying, high-pitched voice. Some days, he really did act no better than a three-year-old.

"No. I will not buy chocolate for your son’s first solid meal! He’s only four-months-old, he doesn’t know how to chew, and he doesn’t have any teeth!”

“He can suck on it. Modern problems require modern solutions.”

“That’s not a solution, it’s just moronic. Peter can have apple puree, or mashed banana. You’re supposed to wean him off of formula and onto baby food, not shove adult food in his face and expect him to be able to eat it.”

“We can melt the chocolate and give it to him in a bottle!”

“Your ideas are just getting stupider. I’m the one that’s actually going to be buying the food, and I refuse to enable this idiocy. Maybe if you weren’t so busy moaning about your distaste for grocery stores, you would have been able to come.” 

“But then you would have just told me to my face that I can’t buy chocolate for Peter.”

“That’s true. I’m hanging up now, see you when I get back.”   


“Wait, no-” Tony was cut off by the beeping of the dial tone, signifying that Pepper had hung up on him. How rude.

Rude Pepper and her rude responsible-ness. Why couldn’t Tony introduce Peter to the world of solid foods with chocolate? It was one of the best things in the world of food, bar cheeseburgers, and his son deserved only the best. 

Sure, she made some compelling arguments. His four-month-old baby didn’t know how to chew and he was severely lacking in the pearly whites department. On the flip side, chocolate tasted good, which meant it was already better than the goop that grocery stores tried to pass off as baby food. 

According to Doctor Lantzer, they could start weaning Peter off of baby formula by giving him solids alongside his regular liquid meals, and then eventually lessen the amount of formula he consumed while increasing his baby food intake. Tony had thought she’d meant  _ actual _ solids, like cheeseburgers and chocolate and carrots. His son’s first solid meal would have been  _ awesome _ . That was until Pepper burst his bubble and called him from the shops, asking if Peter would enjoy plain apple puree or mashed banana more. 

Speaking of Peter, the baby was currently lying on the changing table in his nursery, wearing nothing but his diaper, as Tony had been in the middle of getting him dressed when Pepper called him. 

After sliding his phone into his back pocket, he approached the baby. Peter was currently trying to grab a red plastic ring that Tony had put nearby to occupy him while he was on the call. His son had shown a lot of interest in trying to pick things up recently, but only got more and more frustrated as his little fingers simply refused to close around the object of his attention. Nevertheless, the baby was persistent, and kept trying on nearly everything he saw. 

Peter’s legs were kicking subconsciously as his hand grasped at the ring, and Tony looked at his son fondly before rifling through the drawers to find the baby an outfit for the day.

A few minutes later, and the genius hit the jackpot: a bright yellow jumpsuit that had a stereotypical sauce label printed on the tummy. The words ‘Yummz Yellow Mustard’ were emblazoned upon the label, and Tony grinned wickedly. Pepper would hate it (which meant the garment automatically ticked all the right boxes) and it was food related - perfect for today’s activities.

He dressed Peter, but didn’t feed him as much as he normally would, instead deciding to wait for Pepper to get back from the shops with the baby goop. If the kid ended up disliking the solids, Tony would feed the baby more formula later. 

Pepper still hadn’t returned from the store, and so the genius put Peter on his tummy time mat and placed various toys around him, trying to incentivise the baby into rolling over or finally managing to pick something up. However, Pete wasn’t feeling very wiggly today, because he put all of his attention into looking up at his daddy while drool made it’s painstakingly slow way out of the baby’s open mouth and down his chin. The kid had mastered the art of holding his head up, but still didn’t do it for very long if he could help it. 

Tony just chuckled fondly and wiped the spit away with the hem of his shirt, mindful of the knowledge that such an action would probably have made his past-self recoil in disgust. He should probably go find a bib, now that Peter was progressing to solids and would likely make a much larger mess than he normally did while feeding. Tony was loath to ruin the mustard onesie, after all.

It took a lot of digging around in the kitchen drawers, but he succeeded in finding what he was looking for - a bib. It was a nice cream colour, and there was a banana embroidered in the centre that matched the yellow of Peter’s mustard jumpsuit. Tony thought having a cream-coloured bib was a little bit of a design flaw - wouldn’t the stains show up even more on a light fabric - but he wasn’t one to judge the decisions of whoever had made the bib.

Pepper eventually returned, laden with shopping bags filled to the brim with baby food and regular food alike (the pantry was alarmingly sparse yet again). Tony walked over to her with Peter in his arms, the bright yellow jumpsuit almost offensively noticeable against the billionaire’s dark grey t-shirt.

The woman took one look at the pair, and sighed. “Did you dress your son in a jumpsuit that resembles a mustard bottle?” she asked tiredly.

“May-be…” Tony answered, grinning as he did so, making it obvious that he had indeed done that. 

Pepper just blinked slowly and sighed again, before shoving three different containers of baby food at him and then continuing to unpack the groceries, pointedly ignoring Tony and his antics.

The genius chose a simple apple flavoured puree, which was the lesser of the three evils (the other two flavours were banana and mixed berry), and sat down at the dining table, grabbing one of the baby spoons Pepper had the foresight to purchase. He really should thank her to her face one of these days, instead of in his head when the moment called for it.

After much shuffling and grunting, the pair were comfortably situated at the table, with Peter plopped on Tony’s lap, leaning heavily against his daddy’s arm and side (the baby was still working on sitting up, even with support). Tony held the pottle of puree with the same arm that he was using to support Peter, and the tiny spoon was in his other hand. Pepper had long since finished putting away the groceries, and was perched at the kitchen counter, watching the process carefully.

Doctor Lantzer had said that Peter was ready to try his first taste of solid food, especially because he was always looking intently at whatever Tony was eating, and had once even tried to grab a biscuit off the table at dad’s group. It didn’t actually work, because the baby hadn’t really figured out how to hold things yet, and the biscuit had fallen to the ground. It was quickly snatched up by Ned and shoved into the older boy's mouth, much to his father’s panic and begrudging amusement.

She’d also given him a very descriptive rundown of what to expect when introducing Peter to solids, and instructions on just how he should go about it. Tony should do it directly after his son had some formula, and he’d probably only want a couple of teaspoons of food. The billionaire was also told that he needed to keep Peter interested in what was happening. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Tony had asked, bewildered. Eating wasn’t interesting. In fact, most of the time he found it to be more of a hindrance than  anything else. Something that stole him away from an intricate project in his lab.

“Explain what’s going on to him. Tell him about the food he’s eating, where you got it. Understand?” Doctor Lantzer had said in reply.

That was how Tony found himself explaining the practice of eating to his four-month-old. “Alright Petey, this is a momentous occasion for you. I’m about to put apple puree in your mouth. Now, I reckon it’ll be pretty nasty stuff, but you might beg to differ. Uh, it’s made from apples, which grow on trees. I don’t know what else to tell you about it, Pumpkin. The process of pureeing apples isn’t really my specialty,” Tony admitted. Peter ignored him in favour of staring at the spoonful of goop that his father was holding in front of his face. “Fair warning, I sure as hell won’t be eating this to show you what to do. You’re going to have to figure this one out on your own.” the genius said defiantly. 

“Tony!” Pepper huffed from her spot at the kitchen counter.

“What? It’s  _ baby food _ . Do I look like a baby to you?”

“Well-”   


“Don’t answer that,” Tony intercepted, waving a finger at Pepper, who was grinning mischievously. “Alright, kiddie. I’m putting the goop in your mouth.” The genius teased Peter’s lips open with the tip of the spoon and his mouth widened enough for his father to put the food in. 

“The package has been delivered and we’re now leaving the station,” Tony joked, relief colouring his tone. He’d been nervous to introduce Peter to ‘solids’ (though they didn’t seem very solid to him), but that whole thing had been rather anticlimactic. 

Before the genius could remove the spoon, Peter’s mouth clamped shut. Tony and Pepper chuckled fondly as the baby started sucking on the utensil, obviously assuming it was similar to his bottle.

“Oh, Pumpkin, I know you’re used to drinking from your bottle, but that’s not the case here, alright? I’m meant to remove the spoon before you chow down on the goop,” Tony said, before gently tugging the utensil out of his son’s mouth.

Peter’s face scrunched up and his lips pursed as he held the puree in his mouth, looking bewildered. Doctor Lantzer had said the baby would probably be confused by the texture at first, and might even pull a face, but that didn’t mean Tony should immediately assume he disliked it.

After about half a minute, Peter seemed to figure out what he was supposed to do with the food, and swallowed it, though he somehow managed to spill about half of it down his chin in the process. Thank god for the bib - Tony really didn’t want to destroy the mustard jumpsuit, it was too beautiful for that. 

The baby opened his mouth again and looked expectantly at his father, which the billionaire took as his cue to put another half-spoonful into his son’s mouth. Peter accepted the goop happily, opening and closing his mouth a few times before swallowing, probably trying to imitate chewing but really only succeeding in looking adorable and spilling even more food down his front. His hand came up towards his bib where the remnants of his meal were splattered, and he patted it jerkily, giggling at the squishy feeling between his fingers.

Tony glanced towards Pepper, who had her phone out to video the scene as she smiled sweetly at the kid, before her expression morphed into one of exasperation. The man looked back down at his son to see that Peter had somehow smeared the puree all through his curly brown locks.

“Oh, kiddo, we’ll have to give you a bath after this now,” Tony sighed. While Peter no longer screamed bloody murder whenever he was bathed, the baby certainly didn’t  _ enjoy _ the time he spent in the sudsy water, and by extension, Tony didn’t like it either.

When the genius offered Peter a third spoonful of apple puree, the baby turned his face away, burying it in his daddy’s chest and effectively smearing the remnants of his meal across Tony's shirt, not that the man really cared. “Had enough have you, Petey? Must be time for a bath, then!” Tony cheered, though his attempt to inject joy into his voice sounded fake even to his own ears. Pepper chuckled from her place at the kitchen counter, knowing full-well that neither Tony nor Peter would enjoy the experience to come.

As it turned out, bath time wasn’t  _ too _ bad. At least, it hadn’t been until Tony started washing Peter’s hair. No matter how hard the genius tried to soothe him, his son still wiggled and squirmed. The unceasing movement meant that the shampoo oozed down into Peter’s eyes, triggering a full-blown meltdown. ‘No tear guarantee’, Tony’s ass.

The genius had to scoop Peter up and cradle him against his chest in order to calm him. His t-shirt, which was already covered in apple puree, ended up getting soaking wet as well.

All in all, baths still weren’t fun, no matter how cute Peter looked while surrounded by bubbles, and Tony was left with an upset baby and a very wet shirt. He thought he’d wait a few days before feeding his son solids again, because that whole ordeal was not worth it.

December 15th 2001 

The flu was a bitch, and Tony had always hated it with a passion, ever since a particularly bad bout in his childhood. The way it snuck into people’s homes and then into their bodies, spreading like wildfire, was creepy and, frankly, disgusting. He’d always done everything in his power to avoid coming down with the illness, to the point where Rhodey called him a borderline germaphobe.

Unfortunately, sometimes even his best defenses weren’t enough and the virus managed to creep through. This was one of those times, and he felt like he was about to  _ die _ . 

Tony Stark never did anything by halves and that seemed to apply to sickness as well. As a result, he was sprawled across his bed, tangled in blankets and moaning pitifully, cursing the stupid flu all the way up to high heaven.

Luckily, Rhodey was off-duty for the month, and was staying at the mansion while Tony recovered so that someone would be there to look after Peter. There was no way that the billionaire was going to let his son get sick. He shuddered at the very thought of having to look after a wailing, unwell baby while he himself could barely stand. 

Pepper had also come down with the cursed illness, and he had banished her from the house until she was completely well again, lest she spread it to Peter. However, Tony hadn’t thought about what that meant for him. With his trusty assistant out of commission, and Rhodey busy looking after Peter, the genius had sentenced himself to a stretch of lonely isolation in his room. 

He was bored, cold but somehow also hot (what was  _ with _ that?) and covered in a layer of sweat that would normally disgust him, but that he just couldn’t find the energy to do anything about. His left sinus was blocked like the highway during peak hour traffic while the right one was doing it’s best impression of Niagara Falls and he had a headache that rivaled the ones he got during those menial board meetings that Obadiah always pressured him to attend. Every single one of his muscles felt like they’d been removed from his body, stretched out and then placed back inside of him all wrong. 

In short, he felt like shit and all he wanted to do was give Peter a cuddle. He hadn’t held his son in five days, and only got to see him when Rhodey came and stood in the doorway every now and again with the baby so that the pair could see each other. 

On day one, Peter had nearly fallen out of Rhodey’s arms in his eagerness to get to his daddy, smiling widely the whole time. Tony had cracked open at the display, because Peter was so clearly desperate to see him, and everything in Tony screamed at him for denying his son of that. 

On day two, the baby had cried when Rhodey started walking away from the bedroom, and that had felt like someone was shredding Tony’s chest and enthusiastically stomping on his heart. 

By day three, Peter just sat morosely against Rhodey’s chest, staring at Tony with an adorable pout, which made the man feel terrible for not being around as much as he should be.

To make matters worse, Rhodey said that Peter had almost rolled over once or twice during tummy time, and was swallowing solids like a pro now. Sure, it was only a couple of teaspoons a day, and he still hadn’t mastered the art of eating without spilling food down his front, but he was only five months old. It couldn’t really be expected that he knew how to eat civilly just yet.

He was happy that Peter was progressing so well, especially after his rocky start to life, but he felt terrible for missing his baby’s early milestones. What if missing one led him down the treacherous path of a lifetime of missed milestones and important events, and then before he knew it he’d turned into Howard Stark?

Was that his future? Would Peter turn into a lonely alcoholic with terrible coping mechanisms and a harsh, sarcastic personality, serving only to perpetuate the cycle of Stark men? Or would he react differently to the inevitably terrible parenting that Tony would provide? 

Tony’s thoughts continued to spiral as he lay there on his bed, sick and incapacitated, before his phone rang and dragged him uncerimoniusly out of his mind. He fumbled for the device and answered, mumbling a slurred, “hello?” 

“Tony? Are you okay, man? I can hear you hyperventilating from Peter’s room. Do you need me to come in?” Rhodey’s concerned voice said, and the tinny quality of the speaker made Tony’s abused brain throb.

“No, no, it’s okay. Stay with Peter, he needs you more than I do.”

“Peter is asleep, Tones, I just put him down. I’m coming in whether you like it or not, I was just asking for the sake of common courtesy,”

“Fine, fine, you can come in. But make sure you wear one of those face masks I bought, and gloves… and a jacket,  _ and _ long pants, and socks and shoes. A scarf might be a good idea too, and a beanie…” Tony trailed off, staring blankly at the black-and-white photograph on his wall. It was of a beach, and he got lost in the tranquility for a moment before Rhodey’s mocking voice pulled him back to reality.

“So, you want me to put on a makeshift HAZMAT suit? Should I wear a pair of goggles too?” 

Tony knew Rhodey was being pedantic, but he  _ could not _ afford for the man to get sick. That meant he’d either have to get a stranger to look after Peter (an idea which he was not fond of), or allow a sick person look after the baby (and he wasn’t happy with that option either). “You know what? That might be a good idea. Get decked up in that,  _ and then _ you may come in.”

Rhodey just grunted in reply, before hanging up.

Ten minutes later, Tony’s bedroom door opened. The sight that met his eyes was a hilarious one, and if circumstances were better (i.e. Tony’s brain wasn’t trying to inform him of all the ways he was going to ruin Peter, while his body waged war on itself), Tony would have laughed until his stomach ached and there were tears streaming down his cheeks. 

As it was, he only managed a weak chuckle at the sight of Rhodey wrapped up like a snowman, standing in his doorway with a slightly put-out, though mostly concerned expression on his face.

“Christ, Tones, you look terrible,” the older man remarked with sympathy when he looked at Tony, who was slumped upon his pillows in a failed attempt to prepare himself for Rhodey’s company. The dark purple bags under his half-lidded, glazed eyes and scraggly, overgrown goatee contrasted sharply with his pale, sweaty face and flushed cheeks, while his limbs sprawled uselessly around him. 

“This is what happens when fucking germs sneak into your body and force it to attack itself with antibodies,” Tony snarled, gesturing to his prone form with a floppy arm. “Besides, you’re not one to talk. That outfit doesn’t do  _ anything _ for your figure, Frosty.”

“I get it, man, you hate being sick. There’s no need to be so snarky about it.”

“We’ve been friends for over two decades, Platypus. You should know that I can’t stop the snark. I _ am  _ the snark. My name should be Tony Snark. Actually, I think I’ve been called that by several reporters.”

“Apparently being sick doesn’t stop your mouth from flapping constantly.”   


“Oh, come on, I haven’t talked to anyone in days, and I’m feeling a  _ little _ better. I’d say the worst is over.”

“Good, because I love Peter to pieces, but it is  _ hard _ to look after a baby, especially one that misses his daddy as much as this one does.”

Tony sobered instantly at the mention of Peter. The happiness that had cut through his dark mood while he and Rhodey bantered back and forth was wiped away, leaving only his shadowy thoughts from before. Rhodey, being an unusually observant man, noticed the sudden change in his mood.

“What’s wrong, Tones? It sounded like you were struggling to breathe or something earlier,” the man said gently. He knew from years of experience that Tony didn’t like to talk about his feelings, but he also knew how much the genius needed to do just that sometimes, no matter how much he didn’t like it.

“Nothing, it’s - it’s nothing.” 

Rhodey fixed Tony with a pointed glare. “I call bullshit. You can’t lie to me anymore, not after this long.”

“I was  _ never _ able to lie to you, Rhodey. You always saw right through me, even back at MIT,” Tony sighed heavily, before continuing. “I just -  _ I don’t want to be Howard _ ,” Tony said, his shoulders slumping and head bowing as the weight of his admission was released, like Atlas finally shrugging the world off of his shoulders.

And with those six words, Rhodey understood. He understood that Tony was scared of missing the things that Peter would do - of not being there for the crucial things in the kid’s life. 

He was scared that by doing that he would turn into his own father, and in turn, break Peter beyond recognition. He was scared that he’d be the one to remove the childish innocence from his child’s eyes.

Rhodey knew that all Tony wanted was for the baby to grow up knowing that he was loved and that his dad was proud of him. That the things he accomplished mattered to Tony, and that mistakes were okay, forgivable hiccups in the scheme of things. The genius wanted Peter to have the childhood he didn’t and to know the things he hadn’t. 

Rhodey looked at the man who he considered to be his best friend - his brother. When he had met Tony, the billionaire had been nothing more than a scared, lonely teenager at MIT, with no real support system in sight and a past filled with disappointment and pain. 

Rhodey had watched as Tony struggled to cope with that. As he turned to alcohol and drugs and parties to drown out the voices in his head that told him his father was right - he really was a waste of space, unworthy of the Stark name. 

He’d watched as Tony took the mantle of an entire company after his parents died, and built it into something he could call his own, while still dealing with the demons Howard had left behind. 

He’d watched as Tony was constantly ridiculed and slandered by the media for his questionable choices, even though they didn’t know half of the story behind them. To be fair, not many people could claim they knew those stories, but Rhodey did, and his chest ached at the thought of them.

He’d watched Tony grow and grow throughout his life, until finally, the man had bloomed at the arrival of Peter. The baby made him better, in every way, and so Rhodey was sure, beyond question, that his best friend would not become Howard. He would not become Howard, because he was Tony _ -goddamn- _ Stark, and he was his own person. A deeply flawed person yes, but everyone was flawed in some way.

The genius had been a great father to Peter in the last five months, and he would continue to be great for the rest of his life. He’d probably screw up, but so did every other parent, and Peter was bound to make his own mistakes too.

Mistakes were okay. Royally screwing up was okay. Being scared - terrified even - was okay. Tony just needed to know that he had people who supported him, and when it really came down to it, that man loved Peter more than anything else in the world. He’d quite literally sell his soul for the boy. Hell, he had quit alcohol cold turkey when he’d discovered his son’s existence, and sentenced himself to several days of isolation to ensure the baby wouldn’t get sick.

When Rhodey told Tony as much, the man didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up on shaky legs and crossed the room to give his best friend a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” Tony breathed in Rhodey’s ear, before whispering, “have a shower when you leave, and make sure you’ve washed yourself with soap before you go anywhere  _ near _ Peter.” 

Rhodey chuckled heartily, before sobering. “You’re a great dad, Tones. You’re not Howard. You won’t ever be Howard.” 

Tony just nodded and collapsed back onto his bed. “This emotional stuff really takes a lot out of a guy. I don’t think I’ll be making a habit of it,” he muttered, before promptly falling asleep.

Rhodey just shook his head fondly. Tony always needed to have the last word. He pulled a discarded blanket over the billionaire’s sleeping form, and then waddled off towards the bathroom (his makeshift HAZMAT suit made walking a difficult task). Tony would surely have Rhodey’s head if Peter got sick because of him, and he preferred having a mildly-inconvenient shower over being ripped to shreds by a furious father.

December 17th 2001

To Tony’s intense relief, he was all better and deemed non-contagious two days after his embarrassing freak-out, and Peter was yet to roll over, which meant he hadn’t missed a major milestone yet. 

Once he’d gotten his bedroom cleaned using hospital-grade techniques (because there was no doubt in his mind that it was a cesspool of germs and bacteria), had a long, hot shower and downed an obscenely large mug of coffee, he felt revitalised enough to venture into the living room, where Rhodey was supervising Peter during tummy time.

He stopped in the doorway, watching his baby and his best friend interact. As he observed, he also noticed that Pepper, who had come back to work the day before, had artfully adorned the living room with christmas decorations. The tasteful combination of red, green, and silver served only to accent the room’s natural design while adding a festive little pop, instead of becoming overtly attention-seeking and nauseatingly bright. He much preferred it over the decorations he saw in shops at this time of year. It reminded him that christmas was soon, and while he’d purchased everybody’s presents months prior, he hadn’t given any thought to the holiday since.

A gasp, followed by a joyful cry pulled him out of his thoughts. “Yes, Pete! You can do it, squirt, roll that little baby bod!” Rhodey encouraged. 

Tony watched in utter fascination as Peter raised himself up into a mini-push up and kicked his legs a few times, smiling happily up at the older man. He hadn’t noticed his daddy’s presence yet, and neither had the Air Force Colonel.

It happened all at once. Peter tipped to the side and rolled rather ungracefully onto his back. All three occupants of the room were startled into shocked silence - the baby stared at the ceiling, which he’d found himself looking up at all too suddenly, and the two men gaped at the baby. Peter’s face changed from startled to upset, and Tony took that as his cue to rush in.

He kneeled down next to the baby and tickled his stomach. “Hey, Pumpkin. Long time no see. You just rolled over, it’s okay. That’s good, really good. I’m so proud of you, Petey,” Tony murmured fondly, stroking his hand over Peter’s fluffy little head. 

The baby broke into a stunning grin at the sight of his daddy, and cooed excitedly, reaching out for the man. Tony chuckled and scooped his son up, nuzzling him with his nose and reveling in the familiar, comforting weight of the baby in his arms.  _ God _ , how he had missed holding Peter.

He looked up from his son’s face for just a second to glance at Rhodey, who was watching the pair warmly. Tony flashed a grin, which the older man returned without hesitation, and then the billionaire pushed away his doubts and his self-criticism for a moment, in order to just let himself be well and truly  _ happy _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of another chapter. We had a little peak inside Tony's brain while Rhodey fixed his feelings, and then Peter rolled over. He's such a cutie-pie :)  
Feel free to leave kudos or a comment  
Anyway, thanks for reading, HAVE A NICE LIFE (still high on Deadpool 2).


	7. Merry Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup dudes, here we have another chapter, I hope you like it!

December 24th 2001

Christmas was the only holiday that Tony genuinely enjoyed, despite the negative connotations that his parents’ death had brought to the month of December. His mother was aggressively fond of the festivities as well, and always forced his father to be home and distraction-free, which meant no work. Something about the air of excitement that always surrounded the holiday, and incredible food made Howard Stark a more pleasant person to be around, even if it was only for a day or two.

Christmas was the one day a year where he could pretend he was just a normal kid. Where he could wake his parents up at an ungodly hour of the morning so that he could open the presents under the tree. Where he could try and stay up late in order to catch Santa in the act, or prove he wasn’t real.

Young Tony Stark hadn’t had very much normality in his childhood, and Christmas had been the one escape from that, even if it had been more of a practiced charade than anything else. 

The genius wanted his son to love the holiday just as much as he did, even if the baby was way too young to actually enjoy Christmas, or even understand what was happening. They’d make their own traditions, and eat a decadent Christmas feast with family and friends, but that would come later. For now, Tony was content to watch his son grow in front of his eyes.

He was sprawled out on the floor next to Peter, who was lying on his mat and attempting to roll towards Tony. The baby had mastered rolling from belly to back, but was still working on rolling from back to belly.

As Tony led Peter through some of the exercises that Doctor Lantzer had recommended, he explained the concept of Christmas, though Peter didn’t seem to be taking any of it in, not that Tony expected him to. The kid was only five months old, and his brain was still figuring out how to use his body - made evident by the sight of Peter slobbering messily as he failed to roll over yet again.

Thankfully, Pepper had bought a number of drool bibs recently, because Peter was making a lot more saliva than strictly necessary. It was a sign that the baby may start teething soon, and Tony was terrified. No matter who he asked, no one had been able to give positive reviews on the teething experience. 

Peter cooed up at him, and Tony smiled back down at his son, who started playing with his own feet almost immediately. It was a habit that the baby had picked up soon after he rolled for the first time, because apparently that meant he now had enough muscle strength and mobility to fiddle with his toes. 

“What are we going to do today, bud? I’m severely lacking in plans. We could watch a ton of Christmas movies and gorge ourselves on food? You can’t really eat anything interesting though, and that takes all the fun out of things. Maybe we could bake Christmas cookies? That might not be a good idea either - I have little to no baking talent, which means you probably won't either, so we’ll just make a mess and Pepper will get mad at us. Unless… maybe your mother was a baking prodigy-,” Tony cut himself off swiftly, realising what he had just said. 

That was the first time he’d ever spoken of Mary in front of Peter. He’d thought about her sometimes, over the last five and a half months that the baby had been alive, and wondered if she was happy with the way Tony was raising her son. He hadn’t however, spoken to Peter about his mother. Was that bad? Peter wouldn’t remember these early months of his life, but did that justify not talking to him about the person that had helped to make him? 

His son would definitely have questions about the woman when he was older. He’d want to know why he didn’t have a mother like the other children, he’d want to know how where she was, and Tony would have to explain death to the kid. Shit, he’d have to explain  _ how _ she’d died as well. If Peter had a guilt complex that was anything like his father’s, he’d immediately blame himself for his mother’s death and carry it around on his little shoulders until he collapsed from the weight of it.  _ Oh God _ .

Tony was pulled out of his (verging on hysterical) musings by a sound. It was high-pitched and sweet, which automatically ruled out Tony, Rhodey and Happy. Besides, the latter hadn’t even arrived yet, though he was supposed to show up sometime today so that he could stay overnight. Pepper and Rhodey were also staying over, as neither had any plans and they both loved Peter to pieces, so they’d accepted Tony’s offer to spend Christmas at the mansion without hesitation. The noise hadn’t come from Pepper either, because Tony knew for a fact that she was in his office, trying to sort the stacks of untouched paperwork on his desk into some semblance of an organised system.

That left one person who could have made the sound, and as Tony looked down at his son, the baby made another noise. It was different from his coos and gurgles and wails though, because it sounded vaguely like the english language, even if it was just a syllable. 

“Hey, Pumpkin, did you just babble?” Tony asked, disbelief colouring his tone. Doctor Lantzer had said it could happen anytime in the next month or so, but he wasn’t expecting anything so soon. 

He picked Peter up underneath his armpits and looked the baby in the eyes. “This is very important, Petey. I was a little distracted earlier, so if you could do that thing again, it would be great.” Peter just looked at him blankly, and Tony deflated. “Please, kiddie? For daddy?” 

His son’s face split into a grin, though Tony had no clue why. Peter was in the habit of smiling at random times, and so he took the action with a grain of salt. Maybe he shouldn’t have though, because not seconds later his son opened his mouth and squealed, “ba-ba-ba!”

It was nonsense, barely a word, and yet Tony was in awe. His son could babble now, and he’d learnt to do so earlier than most babies, despite his slightly delayed development. The kid was a genius - there was no other explanation.

“You did it, bubba! You did it! Oh, Pumpkin, I’m so proud of you right now.” Peter did nothing but stare at Tony, which was fine - the older man was too happy to be put down by his son’s lack of interest in his own momentous accomplishment.

It took awhile for Tony to calm down again, but when he did he very politely (read: frantically and with no regard for common courtesy) asked JARVIS to summon Pepper, Rhodey and Happy into the living room. 

The driver had arrived recently, and hadn’t done anything since he got to the mansion except argue with Rhodey about whether cars or planes were a better mode of transport, or at least, that was what JARVIS had said they were doing the last time Tony had checked. It didn’t matter, because his baby had babbled, and the billionaire was going to gloat about it endlessly.

The three adults trudged into the room slowly, like they were trying to torture Tony. He was practically bouncing with excitement, and just a smidge of impatience. The trio could see the energy bubbling underneath his skin and the happiness painted clearly on his face. Peter was sitting peacefully in his daddy’s arms, sucking on his tiny fingers.

“What’s this about, boss? You interrupted my vicious defeat of Rhodey. Cars are better,” Happy said grumpily, shooting a pointed look at Rhodey, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Mm, and I was cleaning up  _ your _ unfinished paperwork. It’s disgusting in there, Tony, you need to do something about it,” Pepper reprimanded, her tone severe.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of my paternity leave. Do you know what that means?  _ No work _ .” Tony smirked. “Anyway, that brings me to the reason I called you all here today. Mark the date, for this is a moment that shall go down in history. Songs will be written, praises will be sung and stories will be told of this occasion, for on this day, the 24th of December 2001, Peter Anthony Stark-” 

“Ba!” 

Tony looked down at his son, who was grinning cheekily, and sighed. “Peter, I know we didn’t rehearse this, but you’ve stolen my mojo! Dramatic monologues are not supposed to be interrupted midway through.” 

“I’m glad he did. I was beginning to think I’d died and gone to hell,” Rhodey muttered, while Happy and Pepper nodded along fervently. 

“Well, that hurts,” Tony pouted.

“On a more important note, did Peter just speak?” Pepper asked, sounding a little choked up. She procured a tissue from seemingly nowhere and started dabbing at the corner

“Peh!” Peter added in enthusiastically, and everyone fixed their gaze on the baby who was kicking his legs happily. 

“Oooh, that was a new one. Peter Stark is on a mission to expand his vocabulary, folks!”

“He did. Shit, he spoke!” Rhodey exclaimed, though it sounded more like a girlish squeal in Tony’s opinion. Happy lived up to his name for once and was smiling just slightly, his eyes crinkling warmly as he looked at Tony, who was bursting with pride, and Peter, who was now attempting to suck his own foot and was completely oblivious to the celebration around him.

“Oi, watch the swearing around the child, please,” Tony warned, glaring at his best friend. “But yes, he spoke. Well, technically it was just baby talk, you know, goo-goo ga-ga and all that. He won’t be speaking properly until he’s about twelve months old, and when he does I’ll probably be an emotional wreck,” Tony chuckled, only half joking, because when Peter finally said dada (or some variation of that), it would undoubtedly be one of the happiest moments of his life.

An hour, eleven cups of non-alcoholic eggnog and a half-finished plate of cookies later, and Tony decided it was time for Peter to go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for everyone, filled with fun, festivities, and food. The kid needed to get some shut-eye. 

The baby wasn’t happy with the decision, though. Tony had left the others in the living room half an hour ago to put Peter to sleep, and he was still sitting next to the crib and trying to disentangle himself from the baby’s grasping fingers. The genius had read three different picture books, and had even tried to sing Back In Black. The song was his last resort because it worked without fail every single time. Peter was always fast asleep before the song ended. Always. 

Except now his son wasn’t fast asleep. No, instead, he kicked his limbs while he grabbed incessantly at Tony’s fingers, letting out a constant stream of babble and laughter that could rival his daddy’s rambling. The kid was a huge ball of energy, and Tony was used to seeing that during the day, but at night that energy usually faded and Peter was put to sleep rather easily. 

“Come on, Petey, go to sleep,  _ please _ . You have a big day tomorrow and I don’t want you to be a grumpy baby for your first Christmas,” Tony implored. He sounded pathetic even to his own ears, and Peter certainly didn’t heed his father’s wishes.

There was a knock on the door and Tony turned around to see Pepper standing there. “Tony, Is everything alright? You’ve been gone for a while now,” she asked softly.

Tony just sighed and gestured helplessly at Peter. “He just won't go to sleep. Generally, he’s pretty good at this but not tonight, apparently.”

“Do you want to go sit down? You look tired,” she offered kindly.

“I can’t just leave Peter unsupervised in his cot while he’s awake! That’s terrible parenting.”

“He won’t be alone, I can stay with him for a bit.”

Tony hesitated - he really didn’t want to leave Peter - but his arms and back were aching, his legs were tired and his eyelids were heavy, so he sighed reluctantly before nodding. He plopped a scratchy kiss on Peter’s forehead, and directed a small smile towards Pepper before he trudged out of the room, ignoring the twinge in his chest as he heard Peter’s questioning, “ta?” that sounded in his absence.

He slumped onto the couch and let the conversation wash over him. It vaguely registered with him that Rhodey and Happy were still debating the best mode of transportation, and it elicited an exhausted sigh from him. Personally, he thought rockets were pretty cool, but he had a feeling that neither of the other men would appreciate that.

Pepper came in ten minutes later, and mouthed, “Pete’s asleep,” to the two out of three men that were awake. Tony had fallen asleep on the couch in the time that it took for her to get Peter to sleep, and the billionaire’s face was smushed up against the cushions, limbs splayed haphazardly around him. 

Pepper smiled and gently pulled a rug over the man, before switching off the tv and ushering Rhodey and Happy into the kitchen so they could continue their pointless discussion without waking up Tony. That man really needed his sleep.

Two hours later, the genius himself came stumbling into the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and demanded, “a big-ass mug of the chocolatiest hot chocolate you have ma’am. Immediately,” from Pepper, who was in the middle of mixing everyone’s third or fourth cup of the drink.

Half of his hair was sticking up every which way, while the other half remained in it’s iconic, carefully gelled style. His shirt was rumpled and his bare feet slapped against the tile flooring as he waddled over to a chair, plopping into it with none of his usual grace. 

Pepper and Happy shared looks of amused confusion, but Rhodey paid Tony no mind. He’d known that little punk for two decades, which meant he knew what post-nap Tony looked like, and that was it. 

Happy, who was closest to the genius, poked Tony’s shoulder. The man’s head jerked up with a snort from where he’d been resting it on his folded arms and he blinked blearily at them, before his brain seemed to kick back into gear. 

“Okay, yep, I’m back to the land of the living now,” he said with a sheepish grin. Pepper plonked a cup of hot chocolate down in front of him, piled high with whipped cream and artistically sprinkled with crushed candy canes. Tony groaned in delight as he took a long sip, swallowing the hot liquid all too fast. It was burning his tongue, but he didn’t have the capacity to care. 

“Wait, how’s Peter? Were you able to get him to sleep?” the genius asked, suddenly remembering he had a son.

“Yeah, he went down about ten minutes after you decided to take your impromptu nap,” Pepper replied.

“He did? How’d you manage that?”

“Well, you’re not the only one who’s been doing research on babies, Tony. I read that they can sometimes prefer the voice of a woman, especially one they’re familiar with, over a man. It can be more calming, so I just read him another book and he fell asleep sometime after the third page.”

Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. Pepper had managed to calm Peter with just her voice? And Tony’s hadn’t been enough to do so? “Oh, well, thanks,” he ended up saying, rather lamely.

Rhodey, ever the mind reader, looked up sharply. “Just because you couldn't get Peter to sleep this one time doesn’t mean you’ve failed him in some way. That kid adores you, in fact, do you remember when you were sick?”

“Unfortunately,” Tony griped. That had not been a great time for him.

“Well, he always slept better when I took him to see you before bed,” Rhodey revealed, making the billionaire smile despite himself. “We’re here to help you, Tones. Pepper and I are happy to babysit anytime you need us, and Happy has offered to drive you anywhere you need to go. We’re going to ignore the fact that that’s his job, and that he refuses to look after Peter until the kid can go to the bathroom independently. My main point is that we’re here to help, not steal your son away from you.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. His family was here, it was Christmas eve, he was currently slurping down the best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted, and his son was sleeping peacefully nearby. He was happy.

December 25th 2001

Tony was forced awake by his alarm. The noise was loud and piercing, but he’d designed it that way. It took a lot to get him up and out of bed on time. That cursed alarm was one of only two things that could wake him up without any issues, the other being Peter.

A quick glance through the window told him that it would be a normal, winter day in Malibu. Weak sunlight shone through a blanket of grey clouds, though it did nothing to warm the chilly air. Nevertheless, the scene was tranquil, and brought a small smile to Tony’s face.

The realisation that it was Christmas morning, his son’s  _ first _ Christmas morning, was enough to make him jump out of bed like one of the overzealous cartoon characters on TV. He took a moment to admire his reindeer pyjamas before grabbing the veritable mountain of presents he had purchased from under his bed. Once he’d deposited the gifts under the monstrous tree in the living room, he went to fetch the rest of the assemblage of people sleeping in his house.

Peter was first, and the baby woke up without much fuss, having managed to sleep through the night. Once Tony had changed his son into a reindeer onesie that matched his own pyjamas, he roused the others, and they each got up with varying levels of grumpiness. 

Unsurprisingly, Rhodey woke up easily, used to sudden awakenings thanks to his time in the Air Force. Happy dealt with it about as well as Tony expected, but Pepper was the real terror - that woman could stay up into the wee hours of the morning, but if she was forced to get up before she wanted to, it was a scary sight to behold. 

The woman came to with a growl, and nearly slapped Tony before realising he was holding Peter (which may or may not have been the reason he woke the baby up before he got to her). 

Pepper’s hair was a bird’s nest as she dragged herself into the living room but Tony didn’t dare comment on it. The scene would have been disarming, if he wasn’t used to it thanks to all of the times she’d had to stay the night when fixing one mess or another that the billionaire had made. The woman was usually so put-together, but one wouldn’t be able to tell by the way she was sprawled out on the couch.

Once everyone was settled and supplied with much-needed coffee, they collectively decided to give Peter his presents first. What responsible adults they were.

The baby didn’t really grasp the concept of presents, or what he was supposed to do with them, especially when they were wrapped, but it was cute to watch as he scrunched the paper up and fell into a fit of high-pitched giggles at the sound.

Everyone was guilty of going a little bit overboard when it came to buying the kid presents. He was going to be  _ so _ spoiled when he was older. 

Happy got Peter a plastic car that the baby could sit inside of and move with his feet, which he'd enjoy when he was older. The driver had also purchased a set of Hot Wheels, and Peter entertained himself for an unreasonable length of time just by fiddling with the wheels. 

Rhodey gave Peter a mini Air Force uniform, and the sight of it made Tony’s throat close up. What would he do if Peter decided to join the army when he grew up? The image of Peter, older and dressed impeccably in camouflage rose up unbidden in Tony’s mind. What if Peter went to war and never came back? Fought in a battle he never returned from? No, that wasn’t something he could bear to consider.

His best friend also got Peter a few toys that were supposed to be good for teething, and Tony silently praised the man. He hadn’t thought to buy them yet, but Rhodey was on top of it, apparently. He hoped that they would make the process of teething a little easier for the kid, because Tony didn’t know if he would be able to watch Peter cry for hours on end about the ache in his mouth, especially when he himself could do very little to fix it.

Pepper had bought a whole stack of absolutely adorable clothes for Peter, not that the baby really needed anything else to wear. That didn’t stop the woman from going all out though. She’d also purchased a fluffy blanket, which had cartoon cows on it and somehow already smelled like Peter. Tony was pretty sure that he liked the gift more than his son did.

While everyone was guilty of overspending, they all agreed that Tony was the one who’d truly gone overboard. The man had handcrafted a mobile which played Back In Black softly when it was spun, a toy cow which moved along the floor at a snail's pace when the tail was pulled to encourage Peter to move after it, and a sphere that changed colours whenever it was touched. He’d also bought a simple keyboard that made different animal sounds depending on which key was pressed, a child-sized easel that could have paper clipped to it, and a small playground with a slide and swingset (okay, so maybe it wasn’t so small).

When Peter was happily settled on the ground with his Hot Wheels and a few pieces of wrapping paper, the adults exchanged their gifts. Tony almost made Rhodey cry when the older man unwrapped his present, having gotten him a photo album filled with photos from the past twenty odd years of their friendship. The gift was probably the most sentimental thing he’d ever given, but he wanted Rhodey to know just how much he had helped him over the years.

Pepper was left speechless when she opened her present from the billionaire and found a small diamond attached to a delicately crafted, gold chain. 

“Is this real?” she asked, the disbelief evident in her voice. 

Tony fixed her with a sarcastic look. “Sure. I’m a billionaire so  _ obviously _ I bought you a cheap, fake diamond necklace from the Two Dollar Shop down the road.” 

Pepper blushed, the pleasant pink tinge rising up her neck until it hit her cheeks. “Thank you, I love it,” she whispered, before putting it on. 

Happy’s present from Tony made the driver bark out a laugh. It was a sticker for the man’s back windshield that read ‘nobody cares about your stick figure family’, accompanied by an image of a car driving wreaking havoc in one of the aforementioned stick figure families. Happy had often expressed his distaste for them, and Tony had been practically forced to buy it for his driver when he saw it.

Pepper, Rhodey and Happy always struggled to buy gifts for Tony. The man was a billionaire and had literally everything he could ever need or want, but that didn’t stop them - it just required a little bit of out-of-the-box thinking.

In the end, they chose to lean into Tony’s immature side, and often got him silly, frivolous things. This year was no different, as Pepper got him a coffee mug that had the words ‘I would have quit this job by now if the pay wasn’t so good’ on it. Happy got him a game called Cards Against Humanity, which they pledged to play later that night when Peter was asleep. To everyone’s dismay, Rhodey bought the genius a prank kit, which meant they were all going to have to watch their backs for the next six to twelve months, depending on the amount of determination that Tony entered his inevitable prank faze with. 

After that, Happy went off to the kitchen to start Christmas dinner. The man was, surprisingly, a culinary genius, so while Pepper was the one who could make any drink to suit the occasion, it was the ex-boxer who ruled the food world. Rhodey and Tony preferred to sit in the living room, wallowing in their complete incompetence in the kitchen. 

Pepper returned with a tray of drinks that varied from more non-alcoholic eggnog, to hot chocolate with hazelnut undertones, and then they spent the next twenty minutes arguing over whether they should watch Dr. Seuss’ How The Grinch Stole Christmas or Home Alone. 

The quarrel was eventually solved when Tony held the two discs in front of Peter. His son stared at them for a long time, and then eventually said, “baaah!” while looking at Home Alone. The genius took the baby’s word as law, and no one wanted to fight against a five-month-old or his overprotective father.

With that settled, they put on the movie and settled in to watch it. Tony’s stream of sarcastic comments didn’t stop the entire time, and Rhodey, who was a little bit tipsy, laughed at every single one while Pepper shushed the pair of them. 

Peter ignored everyone, instead continuing to play with his Hot Wheels. Happy seemed to be very smug about Peter’s obvious fascination with the present he’d bought, but that was because a lot of the stuff that Peter had been given was for when he was a little older, a fact which everyone constantly reminded the driver of.

By the time they’d finished the first and second movie in the Home Alone series, and were well into the third one, Happy announced that dinner was served. They headed into the dining room, where a spread fit for kings (or a famous billionaire and co.) was laid out artfully on the table. 

A highchair had been set up for Peter next to Tony’s chair, and a little bowl of perfectly mashed potato was perched on the tray, as well as a bottle of baby formula. The genius shot a grateful look towards Happy as he took his place at the table, watching everyone settle into their spots around him. 

Tony cleared his throat loudly, and raised his glass. “I know I’m usually the one gunning to skip the toasts and dive headfirst into the food, but I think this occasion warrants some sort of acknowledgement, wouldn’t you say?” he began, looking around the room at his friends - his family - and smiling when they all nodded in agreement, raising their own glasses filled with various beverages. “This year has been one heck of a rollercoaster, that much is for sure. Two things came out of this wild ride though, two really good things. Number one, of course, is Peter Stark. He came into my world suddenly, and without warning, but I wish I’d found you sooner, Pumpkin. Number two, is us. Shit, I just realised how sappy that sounded.”

“No, Tony, go on,” Pepper said, smiling gently.

“Well, uh, I’d say we’ve grown closer because of Pete. We’re… we’re a family now, and you guys know how hard it is for me to say that kinda stuff,” Tony said, clearing his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Alright, yep, I’m done… and hungry. To Peter, food, and family, I guess.” 

“To Peter, food, and family, I guess!” everyone echoed, and Tony rolled his eyes at their pedantic behaviour. 

As they chattered, laughed, and ate (or made a huge mess, in Peter’s case - he loved squishing mashed potato more than he loved eating it), Tony smiled happily. This Christmas wasn’t elaborate, or special in any outstanding way, aside from the fact that it was Peter’s first, but it had to be the best one he’d ever lived through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTERS WILL BE COMING A LITTLE LESS FREQUENTLY because school is starting back up and mine likes to jump right into the swing of things so we have camp in weeks two and then exams in week four-six of the term. So sorry in advance for that.  
Anyway, I hope you liked this, feel free to leave a comment or kudos because they make me feel so happy and motivated :D


	8. When Life Gives You Lemons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! I'm back and it has been awhile, but this is a short appearance. I will not return for a long time as exam week is coming and I should probably study if I want to pass.  
So, onwards... I hope you enjoy!

February 2nd 2002

When Peter woke up at one in the morning, Tony didn’t think anything of it. The baby rarely slept through the night, and so the disturbance wasn’t unusual. However, when it took half an hour to calm the baby down enough so that he could go to sleep, Tony got a little worried. That worry only continued to grow in his chest when Peter woke up four more times that night, or morning, really. In the end, neither of them got much sleep and come daybreak, they were both more than a little grumpy.

Nevertheless, Tony did his research. He combed through websites and gathered a list of all the things that could possibly be causing his baby trouble. In the end, he called Doctor Lantzer because looking at the list of all the things that could be wrong with Peter (some of which sounded horrifyingly serious) had almost sent him spiralling, and he couldn’t afford to spiral when he had a fed-up baby to look after. 

Doctor Lantzer had said it could be a whole host of things, but recommended looking in Peter’s mouth for signs of teething. Sure enough, when he investigated further, there was a small bump on his son’s gum, right where a baby’s first tooth would usually come in. The area was red and inflamed, which looked all types of painful, so Tony gave the poor kid a cold carrot to chew on, wincing guiltily as he did so. 

He hadn’t put any of the teething toys that Rhodey had gifted at Christmas in the freezer yet, which meant Peter would have to make do with a vegetable for the time being. Tony put the toys in the freezer as quickly as he could once he managed to get the kid to fall asleep. He’d be damned if his son had to suffer longer than necessary because of his own ability to think ahead.

February 5th 2002

Tony was tired. So,  _ so _ tired. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, and he’d adopted a weird kind of shuffling walk, as if he just simply didn’t have the energy to pick his feet up anymore, not to mention the throbbing headache that had set up camp just behind his eyes, and didn’t seem to be moving any time soon (his headaches were just as stubborn as he was).

The fact that there were bright rays of sunlight piercing straight through his heavy eyelids as if they were made of paper probably wasn’t helping the ache either. He’d forgotten to bring his sunglasses with him, and was regretting that mistake more and more with each passing second. While getting some fresh air at the park was nice, the sun certainly didn’t do his pounding headache any favours.

With a drawn out, pitiful groan, he dropped his head into his folded arms. Tony felt a pudgy hand pat his back sympathetically, and assumed it was Henry Leeds. The billionaire was sitting next to the man on their usual picnic bench at the park, where Dad’s Group had set up shop. Tony was trying his hardest not to fall asleep while he listened to Aaron talk about the holiday he’d taken to Cancun with his family while his wife was on leave from the army. It had been Conner’s first trip on an airplane, which apparently hadn’t been fun for anyone in the aircraft. The story was interesting, it really was, and the billionaire wasn’t trying to be rude, it was just... 

Tony hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in a week, and it was really starting to show. There were dark rings around his eyes, his goatee was scruffy and his hair had obtained a permanently rumpled look, as if he had run his hands through the strands one too many times. 

Usually, he wouldn’t be caught dead looking as he did now, but he’d found he didn’t have enough energy to care. He had bigger priorities than grooming himself to the usual standard of perfection that the media had come to expect from him.

What were the aforementioned bigger priorities? The answer to that was very simple - Peter. More specifically, soothing the poor kid while he dealt with a tooth trying to force its way through the tender gum in his mouth.

The baby had woken up at least five times every night for the past four days, and wouldn’t stop wailing until Tony came and soothed him with a teething toy or something of that same nature. The genius couldn’t blame Peter for it. Lord knows what he’d do if he was going through the process of teething.

So yeah, Peter was in no small amount of pain, and required constant care and affection because the aforementioned baby was  _ not _ happy about that fact. Tony was eternally grateful for the teething toys that Rhodey had gifted Peter at Christmas, because they were one of the few things that brought Peter solace. Those toys - which could be chilled and given to the baby to chew on, acting as an ice pack - were one of the few reasons that either of the pair were still alive.

Despite his exhaustion, Tony had still dragged himself out of the house to go to Dad’s Group. Pepper had said it would be good for both him and Peter to get out of the house and soak up some vitamin D, and Tony himself just wanted to see the guys. They’d gotten closer over the last few months, and knew a fair bit about each other and the struggles that fatherhood had brought each of them. 

The ranting was always fun to listen to, or take part in, and it was good to let Peter socialise with kids his own age. The boys in the group had a lot of fun together, as they were relatively close in age, Peter being the youngest of them. He had a lot of fun playing with the others, especially Ned. The two had a very cute bond, and were often satisfied just by playing side-by-side and occasionally babbling to each other. It was honestly adorable to watch, and Henry and Tony had gotten closer because of it.

Henry Leeds was a kind, jovial man who was part of a team of engineers that worked for a building company, though the man really just did the computer stuff. He and his wife lived in a small home in Malibu with their only son, Ned. They weren’t exactly wealthy, but that very fact was what drew Tony to the man. He’d only really been exposed to people with voluminous bank accounts that were only outsized by their ego’s, so Henry, who had no hidden agenda and no selfish intentions, was a welcome change to the people he usually spent his time with. The same was true for everyone at Dad’s Group.

When Tony had arrived at the park, dressed in a wrinkled, red t-shirt that was half tucked into his worn black jeans, and sporting a truly disgruntled Peter, the other men had taken one look at him and guessed his predicament. Apparently, they all knew his pain and were perfectly happy to let him rest his eyes a bit while they watched over Peter, who was playing happily with Ned, Kofi and Conner on a picnic blanket. 

His son was a little trouble-maker though. Now that he’d learnt how to roll both forward and backwards, he was an unstoppable force, and often gave his daddy mini heart-attacks because he’d rolled out of sight while Tony’s attention had been elsewhere for a few moments. 

Peter’s teething pain hadn’t stopped him from doing exactly that today, and he'd already made several escape attempts, giggling happily as he rolled along the springy grass. Each endeavour had been foiled by the adults, but every single one of them remarked on Peter’s apparently endless energy stores, despite the fact that he hadn’t slept very much at all in the past week.

Tony was more than a little scared for the future, when the baby learnt to move more proactively. Once Peter knew how to do something, he didn’t  _ stop _ doing it, which meant walking would be a nightmare, and running would be even worse, especially on the days where Tony felt like someone was taking a serrated knife to his brain. 

He loved Peter endlessly, so much so that it filled his heart up to the point where he thought it would quite literally explode, but being a parent was hard work and the genius was still working on the whole ‘having healthy coping mechanisms and not being a spontaneous idiot’ thing. For now, he would just enjoy the fact that Peter could only get around by rolling along the ground.

Once Dad’s Group was over, Tony had to admit that he felt better. The fresh air and lively chatter of the group had reinvigorated him, if only by a little bit, and he felt lighter as he settled Peter gently in his stroller and meandered slowly towards the car. His son had fallen asleep a little while ago, the long nights and energy he’d just expent no doubt having taken a toll upon his little body.

He buckled Peter into the car seat carefully, fingers dancing expertly across the multiple buckles and straps like it was second nature, cautious not to jostle his son. The poor boy really needed his sleep. 

Tony was a pro at all things baby now - he’d always picked concepts up quickly, and baby equipment was no different. He could buckle up the car seat, deconstruct the stroller and set up Peter’s playpen with no trouble. He had even put together a high chair, though that had taken him several tries - there was just something about all the legs and the sliding tray that confused him. Why did babies even need a sliding tray? Anyway,  _ most _ baby equipment was easy, but parenting was a skill he didn’t think he’d ever fully master.

Everything about it changed constantly based on what his kid needed, and the more he developed, the more frequently it changed. In just six months, Peter had gone from being a completely dependant, absolutely tiny newborn that didn’t do much apart from eat, sleep and cry, to an energetic baby with complex needs and emotions.

He was caring for a human being. No matter how much he thought about it, the fact still seemed to shock him. Peter was a person that he had  _ created _ . Of course, the knowledge that he’d had help did not escape him, but the kid was literally made of Tony’s DNA. His  DNA was part of the little human being sleeping in the backseat of his car. 

The concept was incredible to him, yet so hard to grasp. He was a genius, and a scientist by nature, but for some reason he couldn’t understand the fact that there was a living, breathing human being, made of his DNA, and a part of his life right in front of his eyes.

Tony would get to raise this baby and nurture him into a young man, hopefully a better one than he had been. He’d get to watch Peter go to school, join clubs, make friends and mistakes, fall hard for someone, get his heart broken. He’d get to watch Peter  _ live _ , and he felt so very privileged because of that. Not everyone got to see their kid grow up, either because they couldn’t or because they didn’t care enough to watch, but Tony would be damned if he was counted among those people.

He supposed it must have been a higher power, a deity,  _ something _ that sent Peter to him, because he sure as hell didn’t deserve the wonderful ball of light and love that he’d gotten. There were probably plenty of wonderful couples out there that could have provided the baby with unobscured love and a proper support network, instead of the veiled emotions and fragmented family that Tony offered. 

Tony didn’t believe in a God. The concept didn’t make sense to him, and he didn’t believe in the things that science couldn’t explain. What he did understand was that Peter was a blessing, and maybe it wasn’t a higher power at all that had sent the baby to him. Maybe it had just been sheer, dumb luck and a few good genes tossed into the mix.

All he knew was that he would never trade what he’d gotten for anything.

February 8th 2002

Peter’s tooth finally came through a day after dad’s group. It was impossibly tiny and pearly white, poking out of his pink gum whenever he smiled, which was a lot now that he didn’t have to deal with the constant pain that teething brought. 

The father and son had gotten a couple of nights of decent sleep, and then their routine had returned to normal. All that changed was that Tony now went back to completely melting whenever he saw his son smile. Ever since the baby’s first grin back when he was one-and-a-half months old, Tony had been steadily growing more resistant to the charm that accompanied the action. That was a good thing, because if he became as malleable as a piece of copper everytime Peter flashed a grin, that child would get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, however, all of his resistance had been smashed into pieces, because Peter somehow looked even cuter now that he had a pearly white in his arsenal. Tony had to build that resistance up all over again, and who knew how long that would take. Until then, he was putty in Peter’s clumsy little hands.

The billionaire had been so focused on getting Peter through the teething process, and then admiring the result, that he hadn’t noticed something else changing in his son. It was so slow that Pepper had needed to point it out to him. 

The woman had been in New York for two weeks, looking into potential property investments for Stark Industries, and hadn’t seen Peter in just as long. She'd been almost hysterical when Peter had shown her a smile and she’d gotten a glimpse of his tooth. The woman said she’d never forgive herself for missing the occasion, but Tony had assured her that it was fine - it wasn’t like Peter understood what had happened, let alone had the emotional capacity to care that she’d missed the appearance of his first tooth. 

Nevertheless, Pepper had snapped several photos, raving about how cute they’d look in various places around the house (by now the mansion was basically a shrine to Peter). She was already sending some to the printer when she stopped, staring at the photo, and then back up at Peter. Her eyes widened, and her mouth curled into a soft smile.

“Tony? Have you noticed anything different about Peter lately?” 

“Uh, he has a tooth? I thought we already went over this, Pep. Did the air in New York do something funky to your brain?”

She rolled her eyes, giving Tony an exasperated glare that made him feel moronic despite him not knowing what he was being moronic about. “No, you idiot, not his tooth! His eyes, look at them.” 

The genius frowned, looking at his son’s eyes, before his own widened comically. His lungs contracted and all the air was squeezed out of them in a soft exhale. 

“Oh, jeez,” he managed, the words strangled with emotion. Peter’s previously bluey-grey eyes were now streaked with brown; a brown that was the exact same shade as the one residing in Tony’s own eyes.

Pepper smiled, snapping a photo of the two while they were unaware. The result was a heart-warming picture of Tony kneeling in front of Peter, staring intensely into the baby’s eyes. His gaze was coloured with wonder as he marveled at the similarities between his own eye colour and his son’s. Peter was patiently staring back at his daddy, patting the man’s collar clumsily for no apparent reason while he drooled cluelessly. 

The genius glanced towards Pepper with a brilliant grin, who tactfully chose to scoot out of the room. This was not her moment. 

February 12th 2002

“Are you sure she’s not here?”

“Oh my God, yes, Tony. I’ve checked a thousand times! She’s not here.”   


“Hey, hey, no need to get feisty Platypus. You can understand my caution. If Pepper knew we were doing this she would hunt us to the ends of the Earth, never ceasing, never slowing, and when she found us - because she  _ would _ find us - she would flay us alive and then probably donate all my money to a fake charity for homeless guavas or something just as ridiculous in order to spite me. Homeless guavas, Rhodey!”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t want billions of dollars going towards homeless guavas. I just don’t understand why I have door duty.”   


“Door duty is very important. You’re holding  _ our _ safety in  _ your _ hands. If Pepper found us... well - do I need to mention the homeless guavas again?”

“Alright, fine. She’s not here, now carry on with your wacky plan, and remember the deal.”

“Thank you. Jeez, took you long enough to agree.” At Rhodey’s unimpressed glare, Tony scrambled to save himself. “Love you cabbage patch, and don’t worry. I will convince Happy that airplanes are better than cars if you successfully manage to keep Pepper away from here for the duration of this shenanigan,” Tony said sweetly as he rummaged around the fruit drawer of the fridge.

“Aha, success!” he murmured to himself as his hand closed around a bright yellow lemon. Grinning wickedly, he hastily cut a slice and turned towards Peter. The baby was sitting innocently in his high chair, slapping his hands against the tray as he babbled. 

Tony tapped the camera resting inconspicuously on the kitchen bench, making sure it was on. He was pretty sure Peter would want to see this when he was older, and Rhodey and Happy will definitely appreciate it later. Not to mention, Tony was absolutely going to rewatch the hell out of it… if he lived to see tomorrow, that is.

The whole plan came into place yesterday, when Rhodey practically knocked down the front door in his haste to see his best friend. The man had come racing in, holding his phone, and shoved the device in the billionaire’s face. 

It was a compilation of videos of babies eating lemons for the first time. Tony could tell just by the troublesome glint in Rhodey’s eye that he was down to do it if Tony was. After a few seconds of deliberation - in which he reasoned that lemons wouldn’t actually hurt Peter, and that he’d need to be introduced to them  _ sometime _ in his life - he grinned mischievously (maybe that’s where Peter got his cheeky streak from. Huh, who’d have guessed), and thus, a plan had been born.

Now, Tony was holding the lemon out to Peter, careful not to block the camera. The baby reached towards the slice with no hesitation, and Tony almost felt bad. His kid trusted him implicitly, but it wasn’t like this one thing would throw off their entire relationship for the rest of eternity, would it? Oh God, what if it did? What if that’s how all parent-child relationship troubles start? Maybe Howard had fed Tony a lemon slice when he was a baby and that’s where everything had gone so wrong?

No, he needed to get over himself. Peter would be fine and Tony would be in hysterics on the floor. Or dead, depending on whether or not Pepper found out.

He watched as Peter drew the slice closer to his mouth and then sucked on it. The kid froze, his eyes widening, before he dropped the slice of lemon onto his highchair tray. His mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ shape and his eyes scrunched up tightly in distaste. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it around a bit before he finally opened his eyes, which were watering slightly. He looked at his daddy with surprise and betrayal, and Tony was once again struck by just how good a handle his son had on facial expressions.

The genius took a step forward, struggling to keep his laughter contained and preparing to remove the lemon from Peter’s vicinity, before the baby picked up the slice, looked his daddy dead in the eyes, and licked it again.

The genius snorted violently, shocked by his son’s audacity, before he started to giggle, and before long those giggles turned into laughter that came from deep within his gut and echoed around the room. He heard Peter’s high, melodic laugh join his, which caused him to laugh even harder. He could no longer hold his own body up, and sank weakly to the floor, wheezing as he clutched his aching stomach.

Tony wasn’t sure if Peter knew what he was doing when he licked that lemon for the second time, but it was the sassiest thing he’d ever seen. Now, he was almost nervous for the moment in the not-so-far future when Peter learnt how to speak properly, because he was sure that that kid would absolutely destroy him. 

The billionaire was a master of sass, that was true, but he’d apparently created the ultimate prodigy, and under Tony, Pepper, Happy and Rhodey’s tutelage… the man feared for everyone around the child.

As he lay on the floor, dying of asphyxiation, he heard a sound that haunted his nightmares - the click-clacking on high-heels on the floor. He struggled to push himself up into a seated position, but managed it just in time to see a furious Pepper storm in, followed by a downtrodden Rhodey.

Tony looked up at the woman, who was towering over him. Her face was stone hard and her eyes, which were boring into his own, held roiling seas of cold fury. 

The billionaire smiled meekly and gave a half-hearted wave. “Hi, Ms Potts.”

The enraged woman seemed to grow larger as she raised her hands to her hips. “Mr Stark,” she hissed, her tone low and dangerous - deceptively calm. “What have you done?” 

“Nothing, just… giving Petey his afternoon snack.”

“It’s ten in the morning, you imbecile. If you’re going to lie, at least  _ try _ and make it believable. What made you think it was a good idea to give a lemon slice to a baby? That’s so cruel. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to play pranks on your own-” she cut herself off, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Nevermind, I absolutely would have pegged you as that type.”   


“Hey, no - well yes, I would do that - I have done that - but he pranked me right back! Look at the video, you’ll see.”

“What do you mean ‘he pranked you right back’? He’s six-months-old! He doesn’t even know what a prank is.”   


“Just watch!”

Three minutes later, Pepper, Rhodey and Tony were all in varying stages of disarray, laughing hysterically while Peter sat in his high chair and babbled loudly over their cackling. 

“I can’t believe he did that,” Pepper breathed out, panting heavily as she tried to compose herself.

“I can! That’s definitely Tony’s kid, through and through. If there was any doubt about that at all before, it's gone now because -  _ holy shit _ , that was sassy!” Rhodey replied, trying equally hard to calm himself, though with a lot less success than Pepper.

Tony smiled at Peter, who returned the smile with one of his own, displaying his only tooth in its full glory. 

His daddy melted yet again and scooped his baby up, tickling his stomach and chuckling at the giggles the action elicited. “Yeah, you’re my kid, aren’t you, Pumpkin? Love you, Pete.”

“Lah,” the baby said as he buried his face into Tony’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Feel free to leave a kudos or comment, I love to hear what you guys think!  
Sorry I won't be updating for a wee while :(


	9. Brunches, Twinkies and Hyperactive Babies Do Not Mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I have made my triumphant return in the form of this glorious chapter, which may or may not be strongly tied to food - though not necessarily good food.  
Anyway, exams were tough and I'm pretty sure I failed maths, but that's ok because everyone else probably did as well. I'm back though, and that's what matters!  
Disclaimer: I've never actually had a twinkie, I'm just going off what other people and the internet have told me.

March 11th 2002

Tony had never liked brunches. They were stupid, pointless meals - breakfast was a thing, lunch was a thing, so why did brunch need to be a thing? To make matters worse, he’d spent half of his miserable childhood at brunches - meeting all of the rich businessmen that his father associated with. They all regarded him with the same look, like he was nothing more than a vague annoyance, and then got ridiculously offended when he stuck his tongue out at them. The firm reprimands that he got from his father afterwards were worth the mortified looks on their stupid faces.

Brunches were just bad in general, but the one Tony was trapped in right now was particularly painful. They were in some overly-fancy restaurant, the kind of place that charged an inordinate price for a dish that was about the size of Tony’s pinky toe and resembled dog vomit. It was also definitely not a place for children. 

When Tony had shown up with his, frankly huge, bag of baby necessities and an endlessly-babbling Peter, he could’ve sworn the hostess had stifled a gag. If he had been anyone else, Tony was pretty sure that he wouldn’t have been let in.

As he was led through the venue and out onto the balcony with a brilliant view of the ocean, Tony tried to push his distaste for brunches away, only succeeding when another, more powerful emotion (it was anger, folks) took its place at the sight of a certain old man with a proclivity for  _ backstabbing _ and  _ betrayal _ . 

He was, of course, referring to Obadiah Stane.

Pepper had received an email from the man three days ago, requesting that she forward it to Tony.  _ Apparently _ , Obadiah was sorry, and he wanted to meet Peter in person. Tony may not have been the most forgiving person in the world, but he was willing to give Stane a chance to explain himself, hence the brunch at the ridiculous restaurant.

After settling Peter in a highchair that the staff had managed to dig up from storage, he sat down, folding his hands tightly on the table to refrain from performing any crude hand gestures. 

“Hello, Tony. Long time no see,” Obadiah said appraisingly while he looked the pair up and down. 

Tony inclined his head in acknowledgment, offering a tight-lipped smile. “Obadiah.” 

The older man cleared his throat. “So, this is the famous Peter Stark? He’s been getting rave reviews from the media ever since that press conference.”

“What’d I tell you, Stane? People can’t help but love Peter. Looks like the company’s ratings are safe,” Tony grumbled, though his efforts to remain civil were undermined slightly by the sarcasm in his voice.

“Ah, yes. I apologise for my less than mature words, but we can put that behind us, can we not?”

“You’ve gotta understand something, Obie,” Tony sighed, locking eyes with his mentor. “Peter is my son, he’s my world, and I wont tolerate anyone speaking about him as if he’s nothing more than an inconvenience that needs to be sorted out.”

“I’ve already apologised for my actions, now can we move on? There is business we need to discuss.”

“Hang on, what business-”

“Pardon me, sirs, but are you ready to order?” a waiter asked politely as he approached them. He was an old man - early seventies maybe - with a shock of silver hair and bushy eyebrows. His tasteful red and black uniform was ironed to perfection, and a trademark customer service smile was plastered on his face - all teeth and cool detachment. 

“Yeah, I’ll have a grilled cheese, and some mashed avocado for my son,” Tony requested quickly, not even bothering to look at the menu. He doubted that anything on there would suit his tastes, which had grown much simpler since Peter arrived. A lot of the time, Tony just ate whatever Peter was having, which meant that apple puree was a staple in his diet - he knew that fact was more than sad, but cooking himself a meal required time and effort that he didn’t have.

“Sir, I’m sorry but we don’t serve-”

“Listen...” Tony trailed off, clearly looking for a name.

“Kevin,” the waiter supplied.

“Kevin, can I call you Kev?” Tony asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “Kev, I have a very large bank account and am absolutely willing to do anything for a proper grilled cheese. Can you make it happen or not?”

After a moment's hesitation, Kevin gave in, sighing as he scribbled the order down on his notepad. The waiter shot an expectant look at Obadiah, who chimed in with his own order, before shuffling away to the kitchen.

Tony turned back to the table to find Obadiah chuckling at Peter, who was fussing with his clothing (a green t-shirt with a tiger on it and a stripy thermal underneath, as well as a pair of jeans that Pepper had almost strangled three other shoppers in order to buy). 

“Hey, buddy, what’s going on here, huh?” Tony cooed softly as he lifted Peter out of the high chair and onto his lap. That baby gurgled happily, smacking his palms against Tony’s thigh. 

“I have to admit, Tony, your boy is a cute one.”

“Damn right,” Tony agreed smugly. The boy in question started wriggling in his daddy’s grasp, which Tony had come to understand as ‘put me down or I  _ will _ scream’. He really didn’t want Peter to make a scene in the middle of the restaurant when all of the other patrons were already giving him judgy side-eyes, and so he made a - possibly stupid, in hindsight - choice. He put Peter down on the ground.

He would swear up and down that he only looked away for a minute. Obadiah had started talking business, trying to get him to come back to the company early. Luckily for Tony, one of the traits that Howard passed on was his stubbornness, and he didn’t even consider it. The genius wanted to spend  _ at least _ the first two years of Peter’s life with his son, or more if he could manage it. 

All the talk about the company had caused his brain, which was just a little starved for an intellectual challenge (being a dad was challenging, but just not in the right way for his restless mind), to start spinning, and when his mind spun he didn’t focus on the here and now, but rather the possibilities of the future.

What jerked him back to the present was a brief tugging on his pant leg, before it disappeared. He looked down towards the ground, assuming that it was just Peter trying to get his attention, because the kid was supposed to be somewhere in that vague vicinity.

Except Peter was decidedly  _ not _ there.

Immediately, Tony felt his heart lodge in his throat as it pounded out a panicked, unsteady rhythm. A choked gasp fell from his lips as he slid off the plush seat and onto his knees, peering underneath the table in a frantic attempt to spot his son, without success.

“Tony, what are you doing? Get up off the floor, we’re in public!” Obadiah scolded, but Tony ignored him, clambering back onto his feet. There must have been something in the look he shot the older man, because Obadiah fell silent, watching disapprovingly as Tony made his way over to the empty table next to them and looked under it.

He continued his frantic search for a terrifying three minutes, before he heard the high pitched giggle of his son, one he’d recognise anywhere. The billionaire’s head shot up so fast that his neck cracked painfully, but it didn’t matter because there was Peter, cradled happily in Kevin’s arms and gnawing on a spoon. Tony let out a strangled half-sob of relief before opening his arms towards his son, only breathing freely again once he felt Peter’s familiar weight against his chest. 

After thoroughly checking the kid over for any injuries and finding none, he shot a grateful look at Kevin. “Thank you.  _ So _ much.” The waiter was nice enough to ignore the way Tony’s voice trembled. 

“It’s no problem at all. My son pulled a similar stunt when he was about two, except he was much more mobile then. He ran away instead of crawling, and my wife and I spent about thirty minutes looking for him. Turns out he was-”

“Wait, take that story back a few steps,” Tony cut in. Kevin had just said something very strange. “You said Peter crawled? Like on his hands and knees? No rolling, no butt-scooting. Actual crawling?”

“Well, yes. I was bringing out your sandwich and nearly tripped over him. He was making his way rather determinedly towards the kitchen.”

Tony huffed out a shocked laugh. “That makes sense. If Peter’s gonna crawl anywhere for the first time, it’s going to be the kitchen. The kid thinks with his stomach, takes after his dad in that way,” the billionaire said, poking his son’s belly affectionately. “Thanks again, Kev. Do you mind if I take that sandwich to go? I think it’s time to head home - we’ve had a little bit too much excitement to deal with today haven’t we, Petey?”

“Of course, sir, keep the spoon too - he seems to have taken a liking to it,” Kevin chuckled, nodding at the baby who was still chewing contentedly on the utensil. 

“Bye-bye, Peter, it was nice to meet you,” the waiter said fondly, waving at Peter, who let out a stream of babble that sounded suspiciously like Rafiki from the Lion King (Peter’s favourite movie, at the moment).

Tony walked back to the table, Peter still clutched safely in his arms. “Obadiah, I’m going to have to cut this little meeting short,” he said, tone curt as he swiftly packed up Peter’s baby bag. This experience had certainly not done anything to sway his opinion on brunches. “I can’t take any more stress today, and Peter needs a nap.”

“Alright, Tony, but we will be continuing this chat. SI needs you.  _ Now _ . Not in two years once you’re finished babying your son.”

Tony whirled around, his eyes ablaze with fury. Maybe it was the fact that he was still riding the wave of terror and adrenaline from a few minutes before, but the man’s words triggered something dark and angry within him. “Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ, Stane. You just can’t help but put your foot in your mouth, can you? The reason I'm babying my son is because, you guessed it,  _ he’s a baby _ .” 

“There you go again, Tony. Taking my words and twisting them so that you can act all high and mighty. I just meant that Peter needs to learn to be independent!”

The genius fixed Obadiah with a fed-up glare. “He’s not even nine-months-old! I think it’s okay for him to be a little dependent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.  _ My son _ is tired. if you wish to contact me - though I pray to God you won’t try - for fuck’s sake  _ do not _ set up a brunch!” Tony snapped, before stalking away, holding tightly onto a very confused Peter.

~~~

“Tony! How was brunch?” Pepper asked cheerily as Tony entered the mansion. 

The genius shot the woman a disgruntled look, though he knew she didn’t deserve it. “Shitty, but Peter can apparently crawl now. He’s been holding out on us,” he said, not bothering to explain further as he stormed off to Peter’s room. He wasn’t lying when he told Stane that the baby needed a nap, and Tony definitely wanted one too after the morning he’d had.

April 24th 2002

Tony had known it. The guys at Dad’s Group had known it. Pepper and Rhodey had known it. Hell, even Happy had known it. They had all known, yet none of them were prepared for the new reality they had to face.

A mobile Peter, who was somehow wickedly fast on his hands and knees, and had no concept of self preservation nor danger, was a nightmare to deal with.

There were disappearances - several in fact - and each time Tony felt the now-familiar swell of panic in his chest that he’d experienced at the brunch. The others had laughed at him for losing Peter at first, but they weren’t laughing now, oh no. They all had joined him at one time or another for the many ‘Peter Hunts’ that had been held. The frantic searches for the mischievous baby were such a common occurrence that they’d gained a name. 

There were close calls. Once, Tony had found Peter smacking his palm against the front door, most likely attempting to open it. He had no idea how Peter managed to get down the stairs, and he almost didn’t want to know (that didn’t stop him from checking the surveillance footage - Peter had gone down backwards - just watching it almost gave Tony a stress-induced heart attack). 

There was also the time that he’d discovered Peter halfway down the stairs to the lab, and he had since installed a baby gate. There was no way he was letting Peter anywhere near the bots until he was confident the baby could escape if need be. A premature meeting with the aforementioned bots would no doubt end with at least one person and/or robot crying. Tony didn’t think he was prepared to deal with that quite yet.

Luckily, Tony soon figured out a fool-proof strategy. If he pushed all the couches in the living room together, it would create a large square, that also happened to serve as an inescapable playpen for a certain hyperactive eight-month-old baby. It had the added benefit of built-in seats, so Tony could sit and do something vaguely productive while Peter played. 

He was currently employing the strategy, as he was hosting Dad’s Group for the week. It was raining, which meant that their usual spot at the park was out of the question and so Tony had offered up his house. Henry and Ned weren’t there because the latter had come down with a cold, and Henry didn’t want to spread it to the other children.

They had gathered on the couches, and Tony was engaged in a heated debate with Jacob. The man claimed that twinkies were the best food in the world, and Tony felt bound by honour to dispute that.

“They’re amazing! The sponge cake, the filling. Ugh, it makes my mouth water just thinking about it.”

“Are you sure it’s not rabies? Possibly from eating those cursed objects? I don’t even think they can pass as food. Twinkies are  _ inedible _ .”   
Jacob gasped, placing a hand against his chest dramatically, and Tony bristled. That was  _ his _ move. “You offend me! How can you not enjoy a good old twinkie after a long day at work? They’re the height of American cuisine.”

“I’m physically pained by this, so I’m just gonna stop you right there. You cannot go past a good slice of lasagna, or a grilled cheese if that’s not available. Twinkies have always, and will forever be, disgusting.”

“You mean you didn’t even enjoy them when you were a kid? Pffft, pretentious ass-”

“Boys, boys,” Marvin said, interrupting Jacob swiftly. “You’re both behaving like children, but I know from experience that the only way to settle this is with hard facts. Jacob, did you by any chance bring twinkies?”

“Is that even a question, Marv? Of course!” Jacob said, pulling a box of the nasty little cakes out of his bag.

“I can’t believe you brought those things into my house. I refuse to let one of those things near me and my mouth. My refined tastes will not allow it.”

“Tony, you literally just said lasagna was the best meal on the planet. Not exactly what I’d call  _ refined _ ,” Ryan chimed in.

“Shut it, Ryan, no one needs your negative opinion,” Tony shot back, though his playful grin significantly reduced the bite in his words.

“Gentlemen! For God’s sake, Maddie and Kallum behave better than you guys,” Marvin scolded, and everyone fell into chastised silence. They all knew that Maddie and Kallum were Marvin’s five-year-old twins, and weren’t exactly the most obedient children in the world. “Besides, your taste buds don’t factor into this experiment, Tony. We need impartial judges, which is why…” Marvin trailed off, looking pointedly at the group of children playing in the middle of the couch prison. 

“Oh no. No. No way am I letting a twinkie anywhere near Peter. This isn’t just about the fact that they belong in the swamps of Florida, I swear. Can you imagine what Peter - the baby infamous for his hyperactivity - would do while there’s eighteen grams of sugar pulsing through his veins?”

“Ok, first, you make an excellent point. No twinkies for Peter. But second, how do you know exactly how much sugar is in a twinkie?” Marvin asked curiously, and Tony just shrugged. 

No one here needed to know that he and Rhodey had gone through a random trivia phase back at MIT, and Tony’s photographic memory could recall all of it.

Moments later, the twinkies had been distributed. Kofi and Nina both ate theirs in entirety, Conner refused to even touch the little bit that Aaron offered to him, but the crown jewel of the experiment was Lacey’s reaction. 

When Jacob gave her the twinkie, she put it into her mouth without hesitation and chewed for a second before her eyes widened and she spat the partially-chewed cake into her dad’s palm, screamed, “yucky, Daddy!” and then ran away. 

Jacob’s face was one of shocked betrayal. “Decieved by my own offspring… who’d have thought?” he whispered to himself, and Tony was sent into hysterics. 

He felt a light tugging on his pant leg and looked down to see Peter staring sorrowfully at the other kids, most of whom were happily munching on their twinkies. 

Before the genius could so much as register how adorable his son’s baby browns were, the baby fucking  _ pulled himself up to stand _ with the help of Tony’s pant leg. The billionaire let out a strangled gasp of air, and the other dad’s turned to see Peter balancing shakily on his pudgy feet, clinging tightly to the couch cushion to try and stop himself from toppling over.

Tony lifted Peter up onto his lap, dangerously close to shrieking in excitement as the baby kicked his feet and babbled happily, content now that he was getting a cuddle - it was one of the few things he liked more than food.

Once he was finished gushing about his baby, who could apparently stand with assistance now, he reached over to the twinkie box, digging one of the horrific cakes out. The billionaire inspected it sceptically, squishing it’s slightly moist exterior before looking towards Jacob. “I still wholeheartedly believe that this is one of God’s mistakes. Even your own child agrees with me.”

Jacob’s eyes widened slightly, before he started to cackle. “Maybe, but  _ your _ kid agrees with  _ me _ !”

Tony looked down in horror at the twinkie he’d been holding. There was only a quarter of the treat left, and the other three quarters were in Peter’s mouth, his chubby cheeks bulging as he chewed happily. Tony felt his heart sinking. Once that sugar hit the baby’s system, he was  _ doomed _ .

~~~

“Peter, Peter please. Just go to sleep, Pumpkin,” Tony begged, and his mind was jolted back to Christmas Eve, when the baby had been similarly hard to put to sleep. Unfortunately, Pepper had gone home, and so he was left to his own devices. 

Peter paid his father’s pleas no mind and continued to sway unsteadily in his crib, gripping the bars for balance as he let out a string of high pitched shrieks and giggles that made Tony wince.

It was midnight, and Peter hadn’t stopped  _ moving, babbling, laughing _ since he’d consumed that twinkie. Eighteen grams of sugar were coursing through the kid’s little body, and he was going haywire. Tony was just holding out for the crash. The inevitable, sudden lack of energy that always came after a sugar high.

In the meantime, he read all of his son’s favourite books, sang lullabies, all in the hope of calming Peter down, but despite his efforts, the baby remained an unstoppable bundle of energy.

Tony sighed as he settled into the rocking chair beside Peter’s crib. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kevin. He's gotta deal with Tony and Peter's shenanigans.  
Also, I don't like Obadiah Stane. He a butt. I pray everyone agrees with me.  
Anyway, I hope you liked it, leave kudos if you did. Feel free to leave a comment because I love to know what you guys think :)


	10. Elevator Mishaps, In My Building?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pokes head out from behind a tree* hiiiiiiiiiiii  
So, it's been a while, and I really apologise for that, but it's not been a good time, writing-wise, for me. This story just wasn't working and I couldn't get what I wanted to say down on the page so I took a break.  
A really, really long break that I didn't mean to extend for so long. Sorry.  
On the plus side, I used the time to work on my other fic, Itsy Bitsy Spider, co-written with ariverofthings. Go check it out, we're quite proud of it.  
So anyway, I finally managed to get this chapter done and it actually turned out alright, I think. I hope.  
Have fun reading :D

June 8th 2002

Elevators had never really bothered Tony before. Sure, they spawned awkward situations left, right and center, but what could you expect? Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of strangers in a metal box was never going to be a  _ fun _ experience. Until now though, they’d been nothing more than mildly frustrating for him.

However, after being stuck in one for an hour and a half with a hyperactive, ridiculously clumsy baby to look after, Tony could confidently say his opinion of them had changed drastically.

All he’d wanted to do was collect some blueprints from his second workshop at SI so that he’d have something to keep his brain satisfied when he wasn’t looking after his son. He’d brought Peter along, toying with the idea of giving the baby a little tour of the business he’d be inheriting, and possibly running one day when he was older, if he was so inclined. 

That idea had been hastily discarded when he’d seen Obadiah rounding a corner, trailed by a few other businessmen in expensive suits. Tony had had no desire to interact with the man or his associates after their disastrous brunch, and so he’d bolted through the nearest open door - Peter jiggling happily in his arms as the baby bag bounced against his back - which happened to be the entrance to an elevator, completely missing the ‘out of order’ sign taped to the door, not that it was really his fault. The thing had been tiny, and the very notion that anything could be out of order in his building was ridiculous. He hoped Obie wasn’t running the place into the ground.

Once he was in the elevator, he decided that he might as well take his leave, so he pressed the button that would take him to the ground floor. Tony had achieved his main goal of retrieving the blueprints, and Peter was getting fussy - he’d much rather deal with a meltdown at home than at Stark Industries. 

The doors closed smoothly and he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes against the harsh, fluorescent lighting - it was very unpleasant. He’d make sure to get that changed when he came back from paternity. 

It was silent for a moment, and then the elevator jolted into motion, causing Peter to start babbling from where he was cradled against his father’s chest. The baby had been doing that a lot lately, and Tony was hoping that meant he was inching closer to saying his very first word.

There was a very competitive bet going on between Tony, Happy, Rhodey and Pepper. They all had their own opinions about what Peter’s first word would be, and so the betting pool had begun. Happy and Rhodey, being the single-minded, vehicle loving men they were, thought it would be ‘car’ or ‘plane’, respectively. 

Pepper’s bet was far more plausible; she thought it would be ‘moo’, or some variation of that, because Peter’s favourite animal at the moment seemed to be a cow. That was partially Tony’s fault - he’d accidentally surrounded the baby with cows - there was one on his mobile, he had a cow towel and a cow blanket. The toy cow that Tony had built Peter for Christmas was also the baby’s favourite at the moment, much to the disappointment of Happy. The man had been crushed when he entered the living room one day to find the Hot Wheels he’d bought for Peter discarded under the couch and the baby himself crawling after the cow toy.

Tony, however, knew for sure that his kid’s first word would be dad, or daddy, or something like that. Peter spent all of his waking hours with Tony, and the man had started constantly reminding the baby of the fact that he was his dad. Their days were filled with constant reiterations of the word. 

“It’s okay, Petey. Daddy’s gotcha.” Spoken after the kid had toppled over while standing with the assistance of the couch. The moment had given Tony heart palpitations, but Peter had fallen straight onto his butt, which was cushioned by a diaper. He hadn’t even cried, but Tony had still felt the need to swoop in and comfort him.

“Open wide for dada now, please.” Said to Peter when the kid refused to touch the broccoli-flavoured puree that Tony was offering him for dinner, not that he could blame the baby. The green goop didn't look appealing in the slightest. On the plus side, Peter was now a prolific eater of solids, and while he still didn't have enough teeth to eat anything that Tony would consider to be actual food, he was getting there.

However, Doctor Lantzer had said Peter may not talk for up to another two months, so apart from his overuse of the word ‘dad’, Tony didn't really push Peter towards that goal. 

Instead, he focused his attention on helping the baby to stand by himself. The kid had gotten a lot better at standing with the assistance of another object, such as the couch or his father (and once, to Tony’s dismay and Henry’s amusement, Ned’s head), but every time he let go, the baby toppled right over.

Tony was brought back to the present by a jolting motion, which almost caused him to topple over himself. Peter was startled into silence, and the confused look on his face made Tony’s heart melt. Then again, anything his son did made his heart melt, it wasn’t a new thing, and Tony had accepted it as a fact of life. 

“It’s alright, Pete. The elevator’s probably just stopping to pick up some more people,” Tony assured, despite the fact that Peter had already forgotten about the scare he’d received, and was currently tugging on the collar of Tony’s t-shirt as he stared vacantly at a wall.

They waited patiently for the doors to open, and for a stream of strangers to enter, but neither of those things happened. It was then that Tony noticed the screen affixed above the doors, normally in charge of displaying what floor the elevator was on and whether it was going up or down, was only showing static.

Well, that was slightly alarming. Nevertheless, he took the time to rationalise. The elevator was probably just a little bit broken, and they’d be out of there in no time. Sure, the situation wasn’t great. He had a hungry baby in his arms, and blueprints that he probably shouldn’t have on his person in his bag, but it was fine. Variety was the spice of life, and whatnot.

His calm demeanour faltered when the lights cut out, leaving them in pitch blackness. Peter, who had never been in total darkness before let out a frightened whimper. 

“Hey, baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s right here, it’s just a bit of a delay. The backup lights will come on soon, and then I can find the emergency button and we’ll be out of here soon enough.” Peter just whimpered again, and Tony felt his heart split in two. 

Luckily for both of the Stark’s, the backup lights chose that moment to turn on. Unluckily for them, the backup lights were a rather spooky shade of red. The elevator was bathed in crimson light, and shadows pooled at the corners of the metal box, like the set of some low-budget horror movie.

But then the reality of the situation really started to set in. He was stuck in a literal box, suspended way too many feet above the ground. Now, Tony wasn’t stupid, he knew how elevators worked. Knew all about the advanced pulley system and the brakes that were put in place when it broke down. He knew that unless something else drastically unfortunate happened, he and Peter were relatively safe. Then again, they were Stark’s - drastically unfortunate things tended to happen around them.

Moving on from that uncomfortable thought, Tony began to ruminate on what exactly had happened. It was a disgrace that this had occured in the first place - elevator mishaps? In his building? Ridiculous. Unheard of.

_ What _ was Obadiah doing here while Tony was on paternity leave? Surely his company wasn’t  _ that _ dependent on him that they couldn’t even run an elevator properly while he was away?

A cry from Peter pulled his focus away from his thoughts. His son was looking up at him, the picture of discontent, and gesturing vaguely towards the ground. From past experiences, Tony knew this to mean the baby wanted to be put down, and while he wasn't really happy with the thought of Peter crawling around on a floor that had been trodden upon by thousands of different people, he was even less happy with the thought of Peter having a meltdown because he wasn’t allowed to get rid of his restless energy. 

Sighing, he gently placed Peter on the floor, slipping the baby bag off his shoulder as he did so and pulling out the cow toy. The baby smiled, showcasing his two teeth in all their glory (the second one had come in not two weeks ago, and the teething process had been just as hellish as the first time, for all involved), clapping happily and reaching out for the toy. Tony obliged, handing it over before rising from his knees with a groan and stretching his back - Pepper had told him he was getting old, and he couldn't help but agree with her at times like these, despite his indignant denial when she had broached the topic.

He tuned out Peter’s nonsensical chatter, a skill he had learnt and perfected not two days after the baby had started babbling. It was necessary if he wanted to get anything done at all. Tony loved Peter endlessly, but he was a very chatty, very loud baby, with a seemingly never-ending store of things to say. Sometimes it was easier to just keep an ear out for abnormal sounds, rather than listening to every noise his son made. 

Instead, he turned his attention to the panel of buttons. At the top of them all was a round, red one, the words ‘in emergency, push’ printed below it. Tony, using all his world-renowned genius, decided that that was the button he needed to press in order to get some much needed assistance. So he did. 

It lit up, the red LED light surrounding it only adding to the already eerie glow of the backup lights. A robotic voice came through the speakers, tinny and uncomfortably loud. The low quality of the technology in this elevator shocked him. Once he was back in the work game, he’d need to work on some improvements. “Your emergency signal has been received. An employee will be in contact with you shortly.” 

He heard Peter coo from behind him, and turned around to see the baby sitting next to Tony’s leg, peering up at the button with interest. The cow toy was lying on its side, abandoned in a shadowed corner.

Tony scooped Peter up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he did so. “Hey, Pumpkin. Are you going to take an interest in mechanics and engineering like your daddy? If you do, and somehow wind up in the business of making elevators, you better design a mishap-proof one.”

Another voice came over the speakers, more human than the robotic voice from earlier. “Hello, my name is Jeremy. We got an emergency signal from your elevator. Can you please tell us what the problem is, how many people are in the elevator and your names?” Jeremy said, his voice sounding cool and professional.

“Uh, yeah, the elevator’s stopped moving. It’s just me and my son here.”

“Your names, sir?” Jeremy asked, boredom apparent in his voice. 

Tony bristled in annoyance. He was literally stuck in an elevator and this person had the audacity to sound bored. “Tony Stark, you know, your  _ boss _ ,” he snapped, possibly a little harsher than necessary.

There was a moment of silence while Jeremy presumably checked the cameras to make sure Tony wasn’t some crazy off the street pretending to be the owner of a billion-dollar company. He offered a sarcastic salute towards the lens just in case - needed to keep on-brand for the employees. 

“Oh, s-sir, we apologise for the inconvenience. We can alert Mr Stane-”

“Nope,” Tony cut in, alarm flashing through his mind. The whole point of getting into this elevator had been to avoid Obadiah, not to bring them closer to meeting. “That won’t be necessary. Just make sure that getting me and my son out of here is your top priority. If anyone asks, I’m not here.”

“Uh, alright.”

“Excellent, so just get us out of here quick smart and we’ll be out of your hair before you can say ‘broken elevator.’”

“That’s the thing, sir. The elevator you’re in has been out of order for weeks. It’ll take at least an hour to get you out of there.”   


An hour? That wouldn’t do. “Jeremy, I don’t think Peter will last that long. He’s a very hyperactive baby in a very small box.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Maybe take him for a walk or something?”   


Huh. So apparently an hour  _ would _ have to do. “He’s not a dog, Jeremy, Jesus Christ!”   


“Sir, I'm a twenty-three-year-old living off of a janitor's salary. I don’t know a thing about kids!”   


Tony chuckled at that, making a mental note to look up this Jeremy guy and give him a raise. “Alright, thank you, Jeremy.”   


“No problem, sir. I’ll let you know when we have an update on the situation.”

Tony sighed, looking down at his watch. They’d already been trapped in here for half an hour, and Jeremy said it would be  _ at least _ an hour more until they were free. Peter squirmed in his grasp and he set the baby down gently. While Peter crawled off to retrieve his cow, Tony dug through the baby bag, doing an inventory of their supplies.

Necessities-wise, they were all set. They had enough food, diapers and water to last them a day, at least, thanks to Tony’s slight paranoia, and he’d even had the foresight to pack Peter’s blankie (it was the same one that Pepper had gifted him at Christmas, and the kid loved it, couldn’t go to sleep without it), which meant he’d even be able to get his son to take a nap if he really needed to. 

What they were severely lacking in was the entertainment department. They had Peter's cow toy, and a singular picture book, but nothing else. Tony had not planned for this to be a long trip - more like an in-and-out stealth mission - and so had not packed for an hour-long stay in an elevator.

He was severely regretting that decision, and his dismissal of the parenting website that said Murphy’s Law was something to live by when you had kids. ‘Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong’ seemed pretty fitting for this situation, and that belief was only exemplified when Peter started wailing.

“Aw, Pumpkin, what’s wrong, huh? Hungry? Dirty diaper? C’mon, work with me here, Bubba” Tony cooed as he rocked Peter in his arms. He caught a whiff of a horribly familiar smell emanating from Peter’s downtown area and sighed dramatically. “You know, kid,” Tony said as he pulled the changing mat out of the bag and lay Peter on it. “One day, you’re going to have lots and lots of friends, and me? Well I’m going to slip into the role of embarrassing dad like it was made for me, because let’s face it, it probably was. And do you know what I’m going to tell them?” he asked as he set about replacing the dirty diaper. “I’m going to tell them about the time you made me remove your crap-filled diaper in a broken elevator,” he finished, wiping his hands off with a disinfectant wipe and bopping Peter on the nose, making the baby giggle. “Oh you may be laughing now, kid, but you certainly won't be when it actually happens.”

~~~

Half an hour later, Tony was eating his words. No one was laughing anymore, not even Peter. They’d made contact with Jeremy once more since the last time, and the young man had told them they’d found the problem and were working to rectify it, but it may take a while. 

In the meantime, they’d read ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ twice, much to Peter’s enjoyment and Tony’s disdain (the book was literally about a caterpillar getting fat, and while the illustrations were nice enough, the storyline wasn’t engaging to anyone above the age of six). The cow toy was long forgotten in the middle of the elevator and Tony was reduced to reluctantly taking Jeremy’s advice.

He was walking Peter. Like a dog. Did that make him a horrible parent? 

The kid was having the time of his life, though, so it couldn’t be too bad. He was slowly waddling around the edge of the elevator, one hand on the wall, the other in his daddy’s firm but gentle grasp. The baby stopped every few steps to point at some dent on the wall or look up at Tony, and it was a slow, tedious process. This was about the fifth time they’d circled the elevator, and Peter had fallen over no less than seventeen times, never failing to give Tony the scare of a lifetime. 

Peter had all but mastered the art of cruising about a week ago, and Tony was terrified at how fast the kid was progressing. Doctor Lantzer said that walking with assistance was one step closer to standing and walking on his own. And even though Peter still preferred crawling, the thought of Peter being even more mobile than he already was scared the father to no end.

He could have sworn that just yesterday, Peter had been a tiny, premature baby in the NICU and Tony was meeting his son for the first time, marveling at how small the human being he’d had a hand in creating was. Didn’t Peter’s first smile, his first laugh, his first _everything_, happen just a few moments ago? 

It had all come about so fast, and now Peter was ten-months-old, a happy, growing boy with his whole life ahead of him. It seemed miraculous to Tony, how time could move so quickly and yet so slowly. 

Peter gave a loud cry of frustration as he fell over yet again, before seeming to give up as he crawled over to the abandoned cow toy in the middle of the elevator. Tony sighed in relief and slumped against the side of the elevator. Bending down to the height of a ten-month-old was never going to do wonders for anyone’s back, let alone Tony’s. His was already fucked up from years of sitting hunched over a bench in his workshop. 

He closed his eyes and begged to be let out of the elevator - the walls felt like they were closing in on him and breathing in the recycled air was starting to get really old, really fast. It was a little humid too, and the metallic smell that seemed to linger in all elevators across the globe was becoming stronger the longer they stayed in there. He just wanted to be free, and to design better elevators for his building.

“Da!” Peter yelled, and Tony’s eyes shot open. He knew that when Peter said that he wasn’t calling him dad, that it was just his way of getting people’s attention (he’d said it to Rhodey, Pepper and Happy, as well as just about everyone in dad’s group), but it still made his heart flutter in his chest. The gasp that came out of his mouth when his tired eyes landed on Peter had nothing to do with what the baby had just said, but rather, what he was  _ doing _ .

Peter was standing - wobbly and unsteady, but standing nonetheless - in the middle of the elevator, without any assistance of any kind, like it was absolutely nothing. He was holding out the cow toy to Tony, a move that he had seen hundreds of times before that usually meant either ‘come play’ or ‘hold this.’

He was the picture of cuteness: fluffy brown curls (his hair had really grown in over the last month or so) made even frizzier with the humidity, were sticking up from his scalp every which way. His pudgy little legs shook from holding his weight, and his white shirt, decorated with a multitude of busses, cars and trucks printed on it (chosen by Happy, what a surprise) was slightly rumpled, testament to the insane amount of time he’d spent on the elevator floor today. One little hand was clenched around the cow, and the other was shoved into his mouth, drool dribbling down his wrist and chin. Like Tony said:  _ so cute _ .

As it turns out, Peter is just as much of a high-achiever as Tony, and decided he didn’t want to stop at standing without help. Before his dad could even reach out and praise him, Peter took a step towards Tony. The man’s eyes widened as he choked on a shocked inhale of air. His son was standing without assistance  _ and _ taking his first steps. On the same day. Within minutes of each other. In an elevator. Where was his camera when he needed it?

Peter toddled towards Tony, managing three more steps before he fell to the ground. Tony stretched out his arms, trying to be encouraging while he beamed with pride - how many parents could say their babies stood up and then took their first steps on the same day? Not many, that’s for sure. 

Peter, staying true to his streak of not stopping something once he’d learnt how to do it, stood up again, wobbling precariously for a moment before righting himself and taking another step towards Tony. It wasn’t as shaky as the previous ones had been, and two more successful steps carried him straight into his dad’s arms.   


Tony whooped with joy (there definitely weren’t tears in his eyes, there weren’t), and scooped his baby up, swinging him around in the way that Peter liked so much. The giggle it elicited made Tony want to do it over and over, just so he could hear it again, even if the motion made him feel like he was stuck in a washing machine. 

“Aw, you did it, Petey,” Tony crowed, ruffling Peter’s curls. “That’s my boy, you’re so clever! Oh, I’m so proud, and just wait till everyone else hears. You’re going to get so much praise over the next few days, Pumpkin-” Tony’s proud ramblings were cut off by the jolt of the elevator. They were moving! They were going to get out of there,  _ finally _ . 

The speakers crackled to life, and Jeremy’s voice filtered through. “So, uh, we’ve fixed the problem, sir. You’ll be let out on the ground floor and then we’ll be taking the elevator out of commission. We’re very sorry for the delay and any inconveniences this may have caused.”   
“If this wasn’t my company, and I wasn’t so damn happy right now, I’d be kicking up much more of a fuss. Count yourself lucky, Jeremy.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it, sir. I’ll see you soon.”

The door shuddered open not a minute later, and Tony rushed out of the stupid, metal box, carrying Peter carefully in on arm while he struggled to get the baby bag over his shoulder. Jeremy - if the nametag pinned to his navy work jumpsuit was anything to go by - was standing outside, an apologetic look on his face. The young man was shifting nervously from foot to foot, an afro wobbling on top of his head that rivaled the carefully trimmed bushes outside the front door of his building.

“Jeremy, I take it?” Tony questioned, offering his hand that wasn’t filled with a squirming child for the janitor to take. Jeremy did so, shaking it a little too profusely to be considered normal, but Tony was used to awkward interactions - it kind of came with the territory.

“Yes, Mr Stark, sir.”

“Look, kid, thanks for getting us out of there, even if you took your sweet time,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he did so - a move he’d learnt from Pepper. “If you don’t mention anything about my being here to anyone, there’ll be a substantial increase to your salary.”   


“Are you… bribing me, sir?”

“Nope, just encouraging you to help a fella out. Do we have a deal?”   


“Listen, I wouldn’t tell anyone about you being here even if you weren’t ‘encouraging’ me.”   


“And I commend you for that, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Take it or leave it.”   


“Alright fine, thanks, Mr Stark.”

“No problem, kid,” Tony said, before scurrying off to the car, praying that no one in the bustling lobby noticed him.

Once he’d safely buckled Peter in he took off, eager to get away from the building and all the negative connotations it now held. Maybe he’d need to find a different location for the main branch to reside? He’d get Pepper on that - it sounded like something she’d enjoy, what with all the research and comparison shopping. She loved that kind of stuff.

As the road to his mansion stretched out, empty and winding before him, he allowed himself a grin. His  _ son _ had taken his  _ first steps _ today. In an elevator. Peter was definitely a Stark - Tony couldn’t count the number of weird situations he’d ended up in throughout his life. Getting stuck in an elevator with his son wasn’t even in the top ten, but in terms of ‘which day had the biggest emotional-rollercoaster,’ today topped the list, no question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that. It's done, I hope it wasn't too boring or anything.  
If you liked it leave a kudos - they make my day, or a comment because they make my week.  
Thanks for reading :D


	11. Chatterbox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola amigos! I'm not happy with this chapter and am of the firm belief that it's trash, but I'm posting it anyway. We're gonna explore some other relationships today, but only for a bit and then it's back to Tony and Peter :)  
I hope the chapter is at least tolerable, and I know this one is something a lot of people have been waiting for. Sorry it's not up to scratch.

July 17th 2002

Tony was no stranger to exhaustion.

He was a wacky genius with insomniac-like tendencies and an eleven-month-old.  _ He’d been tired before _ .

Like when he’d gone on the week-long inventing stint of ‘97, and slept for exactly three hours and fourteen minutes during those seven days. He’d consumed so much coffee during that time that his fingers hadn’t stopped twitching for a month afterwards.

And then there were Peter’s teething sessions. Not fun for anyone, but Tony had gotten better at dealing with them ever since Peter had gotten three more in the two weeks after the elevator incident. The baby now had five in total, and Tony prayed he wouldn’t get anymore for a long time. He didn’t care if he’d have to mash bananas for the kid until he was eighteen, as long as he didn’t have to deal with any more inconsolable wailing at one in the morning, he’d be happy.

So yeah, Tony knew what it was to be tired. Normally, he’d just down a few cups of coffee, maybe nab a nap or two, and then he’d be right as rain.

Except not even his years of sleepless nights could prepare him for the complete and utter exhaustion that came with looking after his almost one-year-old (shit, that was a scary thought), who’d been practicing his walking for an entire month and was getting very good at it, unfortunately for Tony.

Apparently, Peter was the one thing that could make him feel like he couldn’t make it another hour without a dedicated nap. Conquered by his own offspring, oh how the irony stings.

But the thing was, he couldn’t understand  _ why _ he was tired. He actually slept relatively often, thanks to the fact that Peter could make it all the way through the night without waking up now, and did so frequently. 

It must be the daytime activities that drained him so thoroughly, then. He spent his time running around after Peter who, despite having mastered walking, was still a very clumsy little boy. While he no longer fell onto his butt very often, or his face - it had happened once, and the resulting bruise had nearly made Tony faint - he still ran into things quite a lot because he was too busy looking over his shoulder at Tony, who was desperately chasing after him. 

Peter wasn’t exactly… a coordinated child, but that was to be expected. Tony certainly wasn’t a star athlete - his strength was in his mind, and judging by the way Peter was picking up new concepts and skills left, right and center, the baby had inherited that mind.

His days were filled to the brim with physical activity (who knew that chasing after a baby could make someone so fit? He was probably in better shape than he’d ever been), and his nights were spent tinkering in the lab (he had a whole ton of new projects underway thanks to the blueprints he’d nabbed from his lab at SI), or sleeping off his exhaustion.

After weeks of running around after Peter, Tony was surprised (and quietly relieved) to find that all he had to do to get the baby to sit down and take a rest, maybe even play quietly, was employ a tried and true strategy he’d formed in Peter’s crawling days. 

He pushed all the furniture in the living room together to make one big, inescapable (for babies at least) playpen, put Peter and a couple of his favourite toys inside, and then settled his ass down on one of the couches. Peter, being the curious little kid that he was, would try and climb up to where Tony was sitting, but he still didn’t have enough strength or properly developed gross motor skills to do that.

Sometimes, Tony would put Ice Age on and they’d watch it together, much to Peter’s delight. It had been the kid’s favourite movie since they’d gone and seen the premier in March, and Peter had created another storm within the media. It was his second ‘official’ public appearance - because apparently all the times they’d been spotted outside since the press conference didn’t count - and everyone had been marvelling at him for  _ weeks _ afterwards, discussing how much he’d grown and how cute he was.

For the first time in his life, Tony felt himself agreeing with what the press said.

However, today, he did not put Ice Age on. JARVIS had suffered a malfunction of sorts earlier that morning. It hadn’t taken down anything important, but some of the AI’s more frilly uses were put out of commission, which meant he couldn’t play the movie for them. And Tony didn’t even know if they  _ had _ the DVD, let alone where it was, so they went through the day Ice Age-less.

In hindsight, Tony was both happy and annoyed that they hadn’t ended up watching it. Happy, because it brought him something that he’d been waiting for since the day Peter had been born, yet annoyed because it meant that Pepper technically won the bet that they’d set up over what Peter’s first word would be.

~~~

The morning started off normally, or, as normal as a morning in the Stark household could be. Tony woke up at nine and lay in bed for a while until he heard Peter screaming from his bedroom.

“JARVIS, how long has Peter been awake?”   


“Approximately five minutes, sir.”   


“And you didn’t alert me because...?”   


“I have found a bug in my tertiary coding. While it affects nothing important, I can no longer set alerts or control the basic technology in the house.”

Tony felt his heart sink at that. If some of JARVIS’ coding was screwed up he’d have to dig through it all to find the issue. That would be hours of work, and he’d need to get it done soon, otherwise JARVIS wouldn’t be able to turn the lights on for Tony, or set timers for the cooking, or play movies. It was really just a whole load of inconvenience that he didn’t need to deal with while simultaneously looking after his son.

Once Tony retrieved a very disgruntled Peter from his cot (the baby didn’t like to be kept waiting), they had breakfast. The billionaire ate waffles while Peter chowed down on some dry rice bubbles and banana slices. They’d reached the point where Tony only needed to help Peter eat if a utensil was involved, and since they were not necessary for Peter to eat his breakfast, Tony got to enjoy his own food while watching his kid make a big mess. He’d glanced away for one second, and when he looked back Peter had tipped his bowl of food out onto his high chair tray and was smashing his hands into the rice bubbles. Apparently the noise was very entertaining, if the happy giggles Peter had let out while doing so were anything to go by.

Once Tony had wiped down the tray and Peter’s… entire body (Unless it was too cold, the baby always ate in his diaper because he was just too much of a messy eater to consider otherwise), he got the baby changed into his clothes for the day. 

Tony was pretty sure that Peter had never worn an outfit more than once, thanks to both the speed at which he grew and Pepper’s prolific shopping habits. His son probably had more clothes than any other human in Malibu. 

The genius sure as hell hadn’t seen the red plaid shirt, shorts or little blue star socks before, but that didn’t mean much. He found it easier to ignore the sheer amount of clothes that Pepper bought for Peter if he didn’t know what she’d gotten in the first place.

Given that Peter had slept for about eleven hours, and then had to sit through breakfast and being changed, the kid was raring to go, squirming in Tony’s arms as the man lifted him off the changing table.

“Da! Da! Da!” Peter shrieked right into his father’s ear. The man winced, before sighing. He knew that Peter wanted to be put down - the pointing at the ground was indication enough, he didn’t need the screeching in his ear as well - but he was still very nervous about letting Peter run free around the mansion. Sure, he was confined to the top floor thanks to the magic of baby gates, which cut off the stairs down to Tony’s lab, the elevator and the stairs leading down to lower levels of the house, but Peter was a smart kid - for all the billionaire knew, his son could figure out the trick to baby gates before he’d even reached a full year of age.

“Alright, alright, I’ll put you down, Pumpkin. No need to scream in daddy’s ear,” Tony soothed, deciding a little bit of anxiety was worth having fully functioning eardrums as he placed Peter down. The baby wobbled on his feet, and Tony offered a hand down to him. Peter’s little fingers grasped onto his own without hesitation, and then the kid took off towards the living room, towing his dad behind him.

Tony had to stoop so that Peter could comfortably hold onto his hand, but he didn’t mind. The incredible feeling of  _ walking _ alongside his kid was payment enough. However, when Peter decided it would be a fun idea to jerk his hand out of Tony’s and bolt in the opposite direction, the billionaire just sighed - this was Peter’s favourite game.

The baby loved it when his father chased him, and Tony loved the peals of bright laughter and the huge smile it elicited from his son. He’d also figured out that the longer he allowed the chase to go on, the more energy Peter used up. A tired baby meant they both got a rest, and an opportunity to rest was something Tony would never take for granted again.

After an hour of slowly pacing after Peter as he toddled around the top floor (and ran into three different walls), the baby got tired and waddled back over to Tony. He scooped Peter up, kissing his forehead gently and brushing the curls away from his eyes - was baby hair always so soft? Or was it a trait only Peter had? In Tony’s very biased opinion, Peter had the softest hair he’d ever felt, and he couldn’t stop running his fingers through it. Call him crazy, but he loved it.

There were times when Tony was hit by an unexpected, overwhelming wave of love for Peter. The first time it had happened was when he laid eyes on his son, way back when, in the hospital, when Peter was practically a stranger to him. Yet when Tony had seen his son’s form, a tide of adoration had risen up within him. 

And as he looked down at Peter, who was sucking on his thumb (Tony was not looking forward to having to break that habit, it looked so darn cute) and looking up at Tony with half-lidded eyes while his curls flopped everywhere, he felt that wave of love rush through his chest. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him and jerked him out of his reverie. He turned to see Pepper, looking magnificent as always in her pencil skirt, blazer and heels. Tony had told her many times that she didn’t need to dress so formally, but she insisted that it was ‘part of the job’. He thought that was a load of bullshit, seeing as he was technically her boss (though it felt like the other way around most of the time) and therefore should have some semblance of input on what was required for the job. He wasn’t saying that Pepper couldn’t wear whatever she pleased, but he didn’t understand how the woman managed to run around fixing his mistakes all day in heels. 

He smiled at her and raised a finger to his lips, gesturing towards Peter, who was now asleep in his arms.

“We played chasies for an hour before he got tired,” he whispered with a fond grin. “I’m going to put him down for his nap now.”   


“Alright, I’ll be in your office trying to sort out the mass of paperwork you’ve managed to accumulate since the last time I did it,” she responded, sending her own enamoured look Peter’s way. 

“Hey, that’s not my problem. I’m on paternity leave,” he responded as he walked past her, shrugging gently in order not to jostle Peter. She scowled, but the expression didn't last long, morphing into a smile not two seconds later.

Tony put Peter down, and turned the baby monitor on. He normally wouldn’t use it, seeing as JARVIS was way more reliable, but the AI was broken (very inconveniently. Tony hadn’t realised how much he relied on JARVIS’ basic functions until he wasn’t able to use them anymore) and there wasn’t much he could do about it until Peter went to bed that night and the genius got some uninterrupted lab time. 

Once Peter was safely tucked into his crib, Tony wandered aimlessly for a few minutes. His life was so boring when the child he’d dedicated his time to looking after was asleep. Eventually, he decided to go visit Pepper in his office (he should really just give it to her, it’s not like he used it even when he  _ was _ working). He hadn’t seen her very often due to the fact that her mother’s health was worsening, and she was taking advantage of the severely lessened workload to go and visit the woman more often, and for longer periods of time. 

She’d been away for a month this time, and Tony was proud to say he’d managed just fine, though the mail stacking up by the front door, the unanswered emails increasing by the hour on his computer, and the ignored calls on his phone may have something else to say about that. He’d still missed her, though. They had… something going on, and while Tony wanted to focus on Peter for now, and he was sure Pepper wanted to give her full attention to her mother, he was still a little curious, if not frightened

When he entered the office, all he could see was paper. “Fuck, why does it look like a forrest exploded in here?”

Pepper popped up from behind a particularly large stack of paper. “Because, Tony,” she began, pausing to look at him irritably. “You have an unexplainable aversion to paperwork and let all of this stack up while I was gone!”

“It’s not unexplainable, paperwork is bo-ring,” he moaned, dragging out the ‘o’ sound in order to sound just a little bit more childish. Bothering people was always fun.

Pepper merely sighed.

“How’s your mother?” Tony asked, his tone going from playful to serious. Ladies liked that, didn’t they? They liked a guy who cared, who was considerate.  Unfortunately for Tony, Pepper already knew he was rarely either of those things. 

“Why do you care?” Case in point.

“Because, you’re my employee and my… friend,” he said hastily.  _ Way to go Tony, real smooth. Where’s the class and elegance you’re known for, huh? _ “I’m just being nice!”

“Please, you and I both know you’re not voluntarily nice unless you want something,” Pepper teased, and despite her unruffled demeanour, Tony thought he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes before she turned away and started shuffling a stack of papers. “But, it’s not great, Mr Stark. She’s not doing very well and the doctors aren’t exactly optimistic, which makes it that much harder to be optimistic myself,” she sniffed, before straightening her posture and turning back around, shoulders set. Her next admission was so quiet, Tony almost thought he imagined it. “She’s all I have left.”

“Hey now, that’s not true. You’ve got me! Peter too, and Happy and Rhodey. C’mon, we’re a team, our own kind of family - sure it’s a wacked out, crazy one, but it’s a family nonetheless,” Tony said, struggling not to wince at how cheesey he sounded. That was enough emoting for one day.

Pepper let out a wet chuckle, before she smiled at Tony. “Thank you, Mr Stark.” 

Tony returned the smile with a gentle one of his own, before clapping his hands together and looking around the room, groaning internally as he did so. There was  _ so _ much paper. “Fine, you’ve guilted me into this. What do you need me to do?”

~~~

By the time the baby monitor alerted Tony to Peter being awake, he and Pepper had managed to clear out the majority of the office.

“Hey, Peter’s up. I’m gonna go get him, so if you’ll excuse me…” he slipped past Pepper and through the door, though to his surprise she followed him out. He shot her a questioning look and she smiled.

“I can finish that up another time, and besides, I haven't seen Peter in a month, and you still need to catch me up on that elevator story - I got the basics of it, and I still can’t believe Peter can walk now-”   


“Oh, he can walk,” Tony interjected darkly, mind flashing to the chaos that Peter’s new skill had brought.

“But,” she continued, ignoring him. “I need the details. Like why were you at SI in the first place.”

Tony didn’t get time to answer, as they’d reached Peter’s room by now and the baby was standing in his cot, gripping onto the bars and looking put-out at having had to wait so long for someone to come and get him. Had Tony spoiled the kid way too much? Probably. Did he care? Not in the slightest.

Peter’s grumpy face went away when he saw Pepper though - he loved her almost as much as he loved Tony - and he reached his arms out to her, the universal gesture for ‘pick me up’. Pepper rushed forward, happy to oblige, and scooped up the baby. 

“Hello, sweetheart. I’ve missed you!” Pepper cried, letting Peter entangle his fingers in her strawberry locks - he loved that woman’s hair more than he loved cows. 

“Wanna see him walk, Ms Potts?”   


“Oh my god, yes! More than anything.”   


“Just put him on the ground.”   


“Really, it’s that easy?”   


“Frankly, getting him to stop is harder. You know how he is when he learns something new.”

“That sounds like him,” she chuckled, placing Peter on the ground and gently untangling his grasping fingers from her hair. The baby wobbled a bit like he usually did, and Pepper’s hands hovered nearby in case he fell, not confident in Peter’s ability to stay up by himself. Tony used to be just as worried, but he knew better now. Even when the kid did fall, he got right back up again.

Peter finally seemed to notice Tony, and his face split into a grin, waddling over to the man excitedly. Tony smiled back, heart expanding in his chest as he did so, and offered his hand to the baby. Peter latched onto Tony’s pointer, and together they made their slow way back to the living room, Pepper trailing behind as she watched Peter walk.

They made their usual playpen out of the furniture, and Peter sat on one of the couches while they moved it to the center of the room, giggling maniacally all the while. 

Once Peter was safely situated inside the baby prison, happily playing with his toys, Pepper and Tony sat down with a couple of mugs of hot coffee, content to just watch the baby play.

“You’re really happy right now, aren’t you, Tony?” Pepper asked, breaking the peaceful silence. Tony thought about her question, random though it may be. He  _ was _ happy. Really happy. Happier than he can ever remember being.

“Yeah, I am. I love Peter, and I’m so proud of him, no matter how often he gives me mini heart attacks.”

“It shows, you know, in the way you look at him,” Pepper said, smiling warmly at Peter. Tony glanced over at her, not quite sure what to say, but he was rescued from the emotional - and therefore uncomfortable - situation by Peter. That kid really was his saving grace, wasn’t he?

“Moo-Moo!” Peter cried, and Tony’s neck cracked with the speed he whipped his head around to stare at his son. The baby was holding up his cow toy and looking directly at Tony. “Moo-Moo,” he said again, shaking the cow toy and Tony’s jaw dropped. 

Moo-Moo was a word, and it wasn’t senseless babble either, because Peter actually knew what he was saying. The baby had shaken the toy he was referring to while he was talking about it! His son had spoken his first word.

And then reality crashed down on him. Peter’s first word hadn’t been dad. It was MooMoo. Which meant he’d both lost the bet and didn’t get to hear the word ‘dad’ from his son’s mouth quite yet. He couldn't even lie to her about it, because she was right next to him.

This sucked. He expected Peter’s first word to be a much more joyous occasion. 

“Tony, did Peter just say Moo-Moo?” Pepper asked, her voice sounding strangled. She’d choked on her coffee when Peter had spoken.

“Yeah, you’ve won. Congratulations, I guess.” 

“Oh, shut up, Tony. I don’t care about the stupid bet. Peter just said his first word, this is huge! Buck up, and stop grouching, this isn’t about you.”

Tony sighed. Pepper was right, as usual. His son had just said his first word, and at least it wasn’t car or plane - Rhodey and Happy would’ve been insufferable if  _ they’d _ won. At least Pepper was a gracious winner

Tony smiled at Peter, warmth blossoming in his chest when Peter said, “Moo-Moo,” yet again. Shit, was that going to be all Tony heard for however long it’d take for Peter to learn another word? Knowing the kid’s track record with these kinds of things, probably.

“Moo-Moo,” Peter insisted yet again, tottering towards Tony.

“Yeah, kiddie, that’s your Moo-Moo. I’m so proud of you, baby!”

“Dada, MooMoo!” Peter shrieked as he reached Tony, smashing the toy down onto his dad’s knees. Tony was too busy trying to comprehend what his son had just said to feel the pain. 

_ That was his name! He was dada! _

Tony scooped Peter up and peppered his face with kisses as he cleared his throat gruffly. It was closing up, and he could feel the unfamiliar burn of tears behind his eyes. Speaking of tears, he was pretty sure he could hear Pepper sobbing uncontrollably beside him. They really were an emotional bunch weren’t they?

_ Dada and Moo-Moo _ , he thought,  _ I can live with hearing that on repeat _ .

When Rhodey and Happy found out about Peter’s first two words later that day, there were more tears, but Tony was pretty sure that theirs had more to do with the lost bet than Peter’s accomplishment itself.

Whatever, at least he’d come second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll liked it.  
Feel free to leave a kudos or comment because I love that stuff :D


	12. And A Very Happy Birthday To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola amigos!  
I swear this was supposed to be done a lot sooner, but it wasn't because I started school again and it was A LOT to deal with. But I'm here now with a fresh, new (and hopefully good) chapter.  
This one's a cute one folks, and a little longer than most of the other chapters in this fic. 5,976 words, to be exact.  
Anyway, hope you enjoy!

August 10th 2002

“ _ Rhodey! _ ” Tony screeched, storming up the stairs of his workshop furiously, holding a giggling Peter out in front of him. The man in question hurriedly dashed towards him, sighing in relief when he saw the baby safely ensconced in his dad’s arms. “Honey bear, can you explain why I found the birthday boy, my treasured son, whom I entrusted you with on this sacred day, halfway down the stairs to my lab?” 

“I don’t know how he did it, Tony! I swear I didn’t let him out of my sight. I blinked  _ once _ and he was gone!”

“Rhodey. Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey. There is a simple solution to your little problem:  _ don’t blink! _ ” Tony growled, before unceremoniously shoving Peter into Rhodey’s arms and storming back downstairs. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you passed that genius brain of yours onto him! He shouldn’t be able to outsmart a baby gate at the age of one, it’s freaky!” Rhodey called after Tony, who’d already disappeared down the steps and therefore received no reply. The man looked down at the baby in his arms. “You, squirt, are going to be the death of me,” he said severely.

Peter merely grinned and yelled, “De-De!” before burrowing his head into the man’s chest. 

Rhodey’s heart melted, just like it usually did when Peter called him that. The boy had picked up many, many new words since his first two (including both car  _ and _ plane, much to Happy and Rhodey’s delight), but he wasn’t great at pronunciation. Everyone had their own Peter-assigned version of their names, and each one had made them fall in love with the boy just a little more.

Rhodey was ‘De-De,’ obviously.

Pepper was ‘Bep,’ or sometimes ‘Pee-Pee,’ much to the amusement of everyone... except her.

Happy was ‘Habbee’, and the man had surprised everybody with the tears that had swum in his eyes when he heard the name for the first time. 

It appeared that Peter Stark was everyone's weakness.

~~~

Tony huffed, infuriated, as he rolled up his sleeves and ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. Peter’s party was in T-minus two hours, and  _ nothing _ was ready.

Pepper had yet to return with the cake and other assorted goodies, Happy had not shown up with the promised decorations (including bubbles, because Peter had recently gained an innate fascination with them and had spent an entire hour toddling after them with Ned once) and not even Rhodey, a loyal soldier of many years, could contain his son.   
Admittedly, Peter was a handful, especially since he now had the ability to speak. A mute hyperactive baby had been hard enough to deal with, but a baby that could melt even the coldest of hearts with just one word and a cute little grin was a force to be reckoned with. It did not help that Peter, at twelve months of age, had managed to figure out how to open a baby gate (for the record, those things had promised him they’d last Tony until Peter was three. He had been  _ lied _ to), consequently adding far too many grey hairs to Tony’s way-too-young-for-grey-hair head. He needed to invest in a good hairdresser.

So yeah, Peter was a little hard to manage (and now the kid had become an early riser among everything else, meaning Tony’s days were long, loud, and ultimately exhausting), but Tony loved the baby -  _ toddler _ , almost. Now wasn’t that a scary thought? That was why he was so stressed about the party. He wanted everything to be perfect for Peter’s first birthday.

It wasn’t going to be a large affair by any means, despite what the press had demanded (they all wanted a chance to see Peter Stark again, and had decided that requesting a huge, public party to celebrate his first year of life would be a great way to go about achieving that). It was just going to be him and Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and the guys from Dad’s Group. He was keeping it small, and while he was spending quite a bit of money (by normal people standards that was. The cost didn’t even make a dent in  _ his _ bank account), it wasn’t as extravagant as most would have thought, considering his innate dramatic flair.

They were hosting it at the mansion, with relatively mediocre food (seeing as half of it was baby goop for the little ones) and decorations. The only two things he’d gone all-out on were the cake and presents, but could you blame him? They were the staple of any good birthday party.

The cake itself was huge, far more than anything the nine adults and six children would be able to consume, but Tony hadn’t been able to resist. The cake in question was a monstrous, three-tiered thing, with chocolate insides, green icing, and detailed animals and plants made from fondant perched in various places. God help him when the sugar rush from  _ that _ kicked in. 

Peter would probably vehemently refuse to eat any of the animals, even if they looked more like cartoons than the real ones that he’d become so fascinated with. The boy was so pure, though he’d seemed to take quite well to the little bits of meat patty that Tony had fed him the other day. It looked like his mother’s love of nature and his father’s love of cheeseburgers would be a warring force inside of the baby for a while to come, especially once he actually understood what meat  _ was _ .

The presents were also a must when it came to Tony going all out. He had both the means and the insatiable will to spoil his son, so he was going to do it. Would that backfire on him later? Probably. He’d have to learn to say no to Peter. The only question was... would he be able to?

He’d bought just as many, if not more than he had for the boy at christmas, and he knew for a fact that Happy, Rhodey and Pepper were also bringing gifts - he hadn’t even tried to dissuade them from doing so. The guys from dad’s group were probably bringing presents for Peter as well, knowing them, though Tony had told them it wasn’t necessary. His mother had taught him that it was rude to expect gifts from one’s party guests, and he wasn’t going to turn his back on the social etiquette lessons that had gotten him through life relatively unscathed so far.

So maybe Peter was going to be a little spoiled today, but so what? It was the kid’s birthday, he could have a little fun.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was a bitch and the store was nightmarish but I’m back now!” Happy gasped as he jogged into the lab, carrying at least six crappy, plastic bags reading ‘Jo’s Party Supply Store’. Tony, who had jumped at the sudden entrance and dropped the screwdriver he was absentmindedly tapping against the workbench, looked up to see the multi-coloured explosion of decorations that he’d pre-ordered poking out from the bags in Happy’s arms.

“Took you long enough! Put ‘em here, we’ll hang it all up once Pepper gets back. We need her to make sure it doesn’t look like a unicorn let loose from both ends in the living room.” 

Happy obeyed, dumping the bags on the clear spot of the bench that Tony had gestured to. 

The billionaire turned to his list - he’d actually decided to be organised for once, if only so that Peter’s party ran smoothly - and ticked off decorations. His ‘list’ really consisted of a few messily scrawled tasks that needed to be completed, and objects he needed to obtain, but it was still better than his usual ‘wing it and hope for the best’ tactic, though he had a surprisingly high success rate when he used it.

Happy bustled off to unpack the bags, and Tony continued to tap his screwdriver against the surface of the workbench. There was a program open on his computer that he was supposed to be doing something with, but it was boring and his brain was way too hyped up to focus on that.

He really just wanted to see Peter. He’d only been able to spend an hour with his son that morning before his party planning agenda had pulled him away, and Rhodey had been looking after him ever since. Judging by the fact that JARVIS had alerted him to Peter’s presence on the stairs down to his lab at least four times, Peter wanted to see his daddy just as much as the man wanted to see him.

There wasn’t really anything else he needed to do until Pepper got here, and who knew how long that would take if traffic was as bitchy as Happy said it was. Everything was relatively under control by the looks of it. His driver was succeeding in his task of assembling the decorations, though he seemed to be struggling with a weird, hexagonal-shaped glitter…  _ thing _ . 

Smiling, Tony hopped off his stool and jogged up the stairs, swinging his leg up and over the baby gate once he reached the top - he couldn’t be bothered to go through the tedious actions necessary to open it. Honestly, he should probably just get rid of them. They weren’t even doing their intended job, and the only thing they  _ were _ good for was slowing Peter down slightly while the baby figured out how to make his clumsy fingers do what he wanted them to. Should Tony invent a baby gate for genius kids? Might be a good thing to look into, though the target market would be rather niche.

He turned the corner and found Rhodey on the couch, smiling fondly down at Peter as the kid slept soundly on his lap. The baby’s hair was ruffled from where Rhodey had been stroking it - they’d found it was a fool-proof way of getting Peter to sleep - and his chubby cheeks were rosy with warmth. 

“Hey, Platypus. I see you managed to control the little terror,” Tony whispered, tiptoeing around the toys that littered the floor. His house was almost always a mess these days, no matter how many times the housekeeper came over to clean up. 

“Yeah, he finally got bored of running away from me about ten minutes ago. It took me another five to get him to punch out, and he’s been like this ever since. You wouldn’t know how crazy he is when he’s awake by the way he sleeps,” Rhodey whispered back, and Tony couldn’t help but agree. Peter looked like an angel - soft swathes of brown hair and a round little face. Long, dark eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and his button nose twitched occasionally. The peacefulness he exuded in this state spoke nothing of the chaotic energy he was full of when he was awake.

“Happy’s downstairs in the lab trying to put the decorations together, and Pepper may not be here for a while. Traffic isn't so great, apparently. Do you mind going down to help him?”   


“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey said easily as he gently scooped Peter off his lap and deposited him in Tony’s arms. The baby shifted slightly in his sleep, bringing up his hand to his mouth to suck on his thumb, but his dad caught the movement. 

Dr. Lantzer had said it was a habit that Tony needed to help Peter break, and he was doing his best. Whenever he saw the kid doing it he’d gently remove the thumb, scolding the boy softly. He couldn’t bring himself to do much more, and he knew that wasn’t a good thing. He knew that one day he’d have to play the ‘bad dad’ role. 

Tony would have to be both the good parent and the bad one. He’d have to discipline his son, teach him how to be a good person; to treat everyone with respect, to be honest and to be kind. Peter would have his bad days - days where he felt like the entire world was against him, days where he felt like Tony was preventing him from living his life when all the man was really trying to do was keep him safe. Tony would have bad days too - days when he wanted to lie in his bed for hours just so he wouldn’t have to face reality, days where it felt like every little thing Peter did was an effort to annoy him. But they’d persevere. They wouldn’t end up like he had with his own father. They couldn’t.

All Tony could hope to do was to be the father Howard never was. He’d be stern, but never uncaring. He’d pay attention to everything Peter had to say, every problem and every opinion, no matter how inconsequential they may seem compared to some of the issues in the world.

As he placed Peter down in his crib, that was what he vowed to himself.

~~~

The party was a smashing success. Pepper had arrived not ten minutes after Tony had put Peter in his room, struggling up the stairs under the weight of the massive cake. It was possible he’d gone overboard, but he paid no attention to that thought as he rushed to help her. 

Once the cake was situated on the dining table, Tony called Happy up to help Pepper with getting the rest of the food ready. He got himself banished from the kitchen when he stuck his finger in a tasty-looking batter.

“That has raw egg in it, Tony. Do you  _ want _ to give yourself salmonella?” Pepper yelled as she slapped his hand away and pushed him out of the kitchen. He didn’t have any regrets though, because the batter had tasted amazing.

Tony made his sorry way down to the lab, where he found Rhodey lying on the floor, nearly in tears as he wrestled with a five-meter-long string of bunting that the man had somehow managed to tangle himself in. It was a hilarious sight, though Tony’s cackling was cut short when Rhodey yelled at him. “Stop your goddamn giggling and get me out of here or I’ll send that photo of you after the Night Of The Noodles in ‘91 to every media outlet I know.”

Suffice to say, Rhodey was freed from his bunting-prison without delay, and Tony made a mental note to break into the older man’s house and burn that cursed photo.

Soon enough, the food had been made, the decorations were up (and even with Pepper’s interior design expertise, it still looked like a unicorn had enthusiastically pooped and vomited in Tony’s living room) and Peter had awoken from his nap. 

The baby was currently zooming around the living room, running from Happy, who was putting the finishing touches on the food in the kitchen, to Pepper, who was still trying valiantly to stylise the multi-coloured explosion in the room, to Rhodey, who had basically given up and was lying face-down on the floor, letting Peter clamber all over him, and finally to his daddy, who scooped the boy up and tucked him under his arm like a rugby ball.

“Alright you little terror,” Tony said fondly, tickling Peter’s belly as he did so, causing the boy to giggle. “Everyone’s going to be here soon, so we’ve gotta get you looking respectable.”

He’d been letting Peter run around in his diaper, lest he spill god-knows-what on his party clothes. He knew the chances of the outfit making it through the festivities unscathed were slim to none, but they could at least  _ start out _ with Peter looking half-way presentable. 

They got to the kid’s room, and Tony handed Peter the first toy he could find. The baby needed a distraction while he was being changed, otherwise he’d get bored and have a meltdown. Honestly, a goldfish had a better attention span than Peter on some days. 

The clothes that Pepper had laid out were a simple, white shirt with little giraffes on it and denim shorts, but boy did Peter pull them off. Tony had to physically restrain himself from taking a ridiculously unreasonable amount of photos (though he had to admit, quite a few were taken anyway). 

He gave Peter’s unruly curls a quick brush, attempting to flatten them down into something acceptable, but he really only succeeded in making them fluffier. Now, the kid looked like he was sporting an afro, but Tony wasn’t complaining - it was adorable. He snapped a few more photos, just because he was looking forward to tormenting an older Peter with them, and then scooped the baby up again.

When they got to the living room, Pepper was arranging the snacks on one table, and the presents on another. The pile was already humongous, thanks to the fact that every person in the room had a penchant for spoiling Peter. It was an issue they probably needed to address.

Rhodey was off the floor and helping Happy set up a playground for the little ones - it was just one of the things Tony had planned for the party to keep the kids entertained while the adults chatted it up. 

There was also a bubble machine going a couple of meters away, and when Peter saw it he shrieked excitedly. “Bubbers!” The baby wiggled enthusiastically in his dad’s arms.

“Yeah, Petey, bubbles. You wanna go play with them?” he asked, already bending over to put Peter down. The baby raced off, and Tony turned to help Rhodey and Happy.

Just as they put the finishing touches on the playground (Tony had spared no expense when he bought it - there was a slide, a seesaw, a rope bridge, a fireman’s pole and even a swing set), the doorbell rang. 

Peter’s head jerked towards the sound and he took off in the direction of the stairs, yelling, “ding dong, ding dong!” as he went. 

Tony assumed the kid meant doorbell, and added it to the mental list he was compiling of the words that Peter knew. It was an ever growing thing, and the baby was constantly surprising them all (including Doctor Lantzer) with the speed that his vocabulary was growing.

“Tony, shouldn’t you go get Peter before he falls down the stairs?” Pepper asked, and Tony muttered a curse before rushing after Peter. 

The baby had already opened the baby gate and was mid-way through implementing the weird butt-scoot thing that he did in order to get down stairs when Tony caught up to him. “Gotcha, kiddo. Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ding dong!” Peter shrieked, pointing down the stairs to the door. Tony could see Henry and Ned on the other side.

“Alright, let’s go greet the guests shall we?”

“Ding dong!  _ Ding dong _ !” 

“Yeah, yeah, ding dong. Ya know, for someone who likes to eat anything and everything with his fingers, your manners are impressive,” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Rule number one of hosting any sort of event, Pumpkin, is to never leave your guests waiting.”

They descended the stairs, Peter tucked securely in Tony’s arms in case the baby decided now was a good time to do a runner. When the door opened, Peter and Ned locked eyes and squealed in delight, reaching out to each other.

“Petey!”

“Ed!”

Henry and Tony shared a grin - their boys were so adorable, though they were both terrified of the mischief the two would undoubtedly get upto when they were older, considering the trouble that they got into now was bad enough. Apparently Peter had managed to teach Ned how to open a baby gate, and the situation at the Leed’s household was almost as chaotic as it was in Tony’s own. 

“Happy birthday, Peter!” Henry said, shaking the colourfully wrapped present tucked underneath his arm, and Ned followed with his own, only slightly unintelligible rendition of the greeting - the boy was six months older than Peter, and it showed. He was much better at both talking and walking, though Peter was catching up alarmingly quickly. 

Tony was pretty sure Peter had no idea what was going on, but the kid loved getting attention from people that he knew (attention from the paparazzi was something he didn’t enjoy so much - like father, like son). The baby beamed and started babbling at Ned while the two older men tuned out their sons’ chatter in order to catch up with each other. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other.

Henry was energetically retelling the way his wife had shrieked with joy when Ned said his first word (“shoo” - to a flock of seagulls). This was the eleventh time he’d heard the story, but he didn’t have the heart to tell the other man that. Tony had been just as excited when Peter had said his first word, and he’d spent a whole week telling everyone he interacted with that his son had just said his first word.

Right in the middle of the story, Tony saw a minivan climbing up the driveway. 

Henry turned to look at it too when he saw that Tony’s attention was fixating on something over his shoulder. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you: the other guys from dad’s group are all coming in Marv’s minivan. Ned doesn’t like crowded spaces so we took a different car, but that’s them,” the man said, pointing to the huge car that was making it’s slow way up the steep incline of the hill that Tony’s house sat on. 

“Right, thanks, Henry. You can head on up now if you want, and can you take Peter with you? He’ll want to play with Ned. I’ll stay down here to corale them and confiscate the Twinkies that Jacob probably brought along.”

Henry disappeared up the stairs, looking around excitedly. He was probably eager to see Rhodey and Happy so he could continue their debate - the three men had hit it off the first time they’d met, and started a friendly argument about the best vehicle. Happy and Rhodey had, of course, insisted that cars and planes were better, respectively, but Henry had opened up a new side of the discussion when he said that boats definitely trumped both.

The whole thing was ridiculous, in Tony’s opinion, though he’d let the three of them argue the point to their heart's content. If they were bothering each other about it, then they weren’t bothering him.

The rest of Dad’s Group streamed through the door, calling out various greetings and happy birthday wishes, each of them plopping a present in Tony’s arms as they walked past. He was soon left with a pile of colourfully wrapped gifts so tall that he struggled to see around it, let alone hold it. That didn’t stop him from spotting Jacob as the other man tiptoed in last, adding his own present to the pile before unsuccessfully trying to slink off.

“Hold it, Jacob. I see that box you have there. What’d I say before you came?”

The man in question tried (unsuccessfully) to hide the bright blue box peeking out of his bag. “What? What box, I don’t see a box. Do you see a box, Lacey?”

“Yes, daddy, it’s right there!” the little girl giggled as she pointed to it. Tony grinned triumphantly and held his hand out for it. 

The other man grumbled, reluctantly passing it over. “Ratted out by my own daughter. Ouch, Lace, ouch. Right in the heart.”

Tony offered the girl a high-five, which she happily accepted, as they made their way upstairs.

As soon as they entered the living room, they were met by chaos. Just a normal day in the Stark household, then.

Ned was crying, Henry was frantically trying to calm him, Pepper was pulling her hand through her hair as she watched Happy try to fix the bubble machine (it was spurting bubble mixture onto the floor), Rhodey was running around frantically and Peter was… missing. 

Goddamnit,  _ what _ was that child doing?

“Rhodey, what happened here? And where’s Peter?” he barked, searching for some sort of order to the chaos in his living room. He walked over to the bubble machine and turned it off, like a sensible person - since when was Tony Stark the most sensible person in the room? Happy stood up from the puddle of bubble mixture that he’d been crouching in and smiled sheepishly, gratefully accepting the cloth that Pepper handed him so he could wipe off his hands and knees.

“Well, Ned and Peter were playing with the bubbles, and everything was fine, but then a minute later Ned was crying and Peter was just  _ gone _ . We think he accidentally got some of the mixture in Ned’s eye, though we aren’t sure how. Or where he went. He’s not in the living room, that’s for sure.”   


“You don’t say?” Tony said, his fear morphing into vicious sarcasm. “I leave my child in your care for three minutes and you  _ lose _ him?”

Rhodey scowled, muttering something about a “demon child” underneath his breath.

“Alright, alright, seems like I’ve gotta do everything myself. Hey, everyone shut up! Peter is many things, but he is not quiet!” Tony yelled, and everyone fell silent. He strained his ears, and there was the faint sound of childish wails coming from Peter's room. “I’ll be back, guys, feel free to dig into the food over there,” he said, gesturing to a table piled high with munchies, before jogging off.

Peter was, in fact, in his room, and Tony mentally patted himself on his back for his good parenting.  _ Yeah, so great, you passed your child off on someone else and then they lost that child. Fantastic. A+. _

The boy was crying, and Tony activated his Dad Mode (something that Rhodey had pointed out when he noticed the gentle way that the younger man acted around Peter).

“Hey, bubba, what’s wrong, huh?”

“Ed!” Peter screeched, and Tony winced at the frequency - he was pretty sure it was just below the level that was able to rupture a human eardrum. 

“Ned’s okay, Petey. He’s fine. You wanna come out and see for yourself?” Peter nodded, his lower lip still trembling minutely as his doe eyes swam with unshed tears. Tony hoped to God that Henry had managed to calm Ned down by now. If not, both of the young boys would undoubtedly become even more upset. 

He wiped the tears off of his son’s face and scooped him up, tickling his stomach gently. Soon, Peter’s face was shining with one of his priceless smiles, and Tony felt the concern lift from his shoulders.

And then dread took its place, because, at the age of one, Peter had managed to accidentally hurt Ned,  _ identify _ that he had hurt Ned and then  _ feel guilty _ about hurting Ned. Had Tony Stark managed to spawn an emotionally intelligent child?  _ Shit _ , how on Earth was he supposed to raise a kid that actually knew how to process and manage emotions when he could barely do it himself? 

_ Now’s not the time to worry about the fact that your twelve-month-old is better with emotions than you are _ , his mind supplied, rather aggressively. It had a point though, because there wasn’t any time for worrying thoughts like that - he had a party to run. 

Tony arrived back in the living room, and the mood had managed to swing from absolutely chaotic to joyful and fun in the few minutes he’d been out of it. Honestly, today had been like a rollercoaster, and the party had barely started yet. 

After about half an hour of milling about and talking (or playing, in the case of the little people), Tony clapped his hands and announced that it was time for presents. The next few minutes were a haze of activity, but he found himself sitting on the couch with Peter bouncing happily on his knee, while a mountain of presents wobbled dangerously next to him. 

Most of the gifts were toys, and while Peter gave everything that he received at least a thorough inspection, nothing interested him more than the mini science set that Tony had spent months putting together. Mini in the sense that everything in it was made for small humans, not mini in the sense of size, because the box that he had packaged it in was almost as tall as Peter. 

It contained baby-sized tools, all sorts of (completely harmless) chemicals that Peter would be able to mix together (under the watchful eye of his dad). Some of them would change colour, while others would fizz up, and a few of them would even change states. Tony was curious to see which branch of science, if any, Peter preferred. Would he lean towards his father’s side, with engineering and mechanics, or his mother’s side, with biology and chemistry? It was possible the kid would have a knack for all of them, seeing as he’d already figured out the baby gate, but also expressed a love for animals (if the amount of times he’d watched Ice Age was anything to go by). Or, would he have no interest in any of the sciences, and instead move to England to become a street artist - Banksy style? The possibilities were endless, and the extent of everything open to his son in the future both excited and terrified Tony.

As well as the mini science set, Peter received yet more clothes from Pepper (Tony was in the process of researching how to help shopaholics), as well as a few decorations for his room. According to her, the walls were looking a little bland. 

Happy and Rhodey managed to put their conflicting opinions aside and bought Peter a toddler-sized water slide so that, when the time came and Peter learnt to swim, he could have fun while doing it. Tony definitely didn’t have heart palpitations at the thought of his baby swimming anywhere that wasn’t in the ten-centimeter-deep kiddie’s pool he’d bought for the boy a few months ago.

Henry, bless his soul, had managed to find several picture books that Tony  _ hadn’t _ read to Peter yet. The nighttime reading sessions that the billionaire had started when his son was just a newborn had become a tradition of sorts, and Peter refused to go to sleep until he’d been read at least one whole book. Gone were the days where Tony could stumble through a few pages of tedious rhyme and that would be enough to knock the kid right out. The problem with their large-scale reading habits was that they’d exhausted their supply of books pretty quickly, and the bookstore in town was getting really sick of seeing Tony once every few weeks. 

There were only so many times that Tony could read ‘Goodnight Moon’ without wanting to rip his hair out, and so some creativity had been necessary. He’d been forced to search in other countries, and found that the Australians had managed to pump out several picture books that Tony could read without contemplating how many brain cells he was using - ‘Possum Magic’? Stunning, though he didn’t know what half the foods mentioned in it were. ‘Diary Of A Wombat’? Surprisingly entertaining, and also one of Peter’s favourites. Australian literature was quality literature.

Along with the picture books, Henry had found a few science books for kids. Tony was nervous about reading them to Peter though - he didn’t want to be accused of forcing his craft on his son, and he didn’t want to bore the kid to death either. Was he even old enough to understand how stars were made, or what made airplanes fly?

His stressing was brought to an end when Pepper announced that it was time for cake, and Peter, though he had only been introduced to the substance a week earlier, perked up at the mention of it. He nearly fell off his dad’s knee in his haste to scramble towards where Pepper was standing, and if it weren’t for Tony’s reflexes, honed by years of spending time in his lab with clumsy robots, the kid would’ve fallen head-first towards the floor. 

This day was going to be the end of him. His poor heart couldn’t take this kind of anxiety anymore.

The cake was handed out, and Tony was glad to see that Pepper had given Peter the smallest piece she could manage, though there was a fondant tiger perched on the side. At least the sugar rush wouldn’t be too bad, and Tony would bet his entire fortune that Peter wouldn’t even eat the tiger - the little boy’s heart was so big that he’d try and keep it safe, and then the father would have to figure out a way to get him to relinquish the fondant tiger before it started getting mouldy. 

That was a problem for another day, however, and he let himself relax. For now, his only concern was keeping Peter from spilling any  _ more _ frosting down his shirt. 

The kid had dropped his first piece down himself before he’d even taken his first bite and the tiger had gotten squashed, resulting in tears. The issue had been rectified when Tony got him another piece of cake, this time with a little fondant seal.

The party started winding down around three hours after it began. The little attendees were all starting to crash from their sugar highs, and the day’s excitement was starting to get to them. People started to trickle out after saying their goodbyes, and Tony was left with a mess of a living room and a very grumpy one-year-old. 

His kid was officially one. Jesus fucking Christ.

He’d had Peter for an entire  _ year _ . He’d been a father for a  _ year _ . A whole year of mishaps and improvisation and having  _ no clue what he was doing or what was going on _ . A whole year of happiness and love - something that he had thought would never be in the cards for him.

Well, he had a one-year-old kid that he loved to pieces, two best friends that made him laugh and who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, and a weird relationship with Pepper that was doing… something. Budding? Wilting? 

It didn’t matter anyway; he’d decided to dedicate himself to Peter, and he didn’t need any distractions getting in the way of that. Romantic relationships were tricky things, sticky and gooey in a way that revolted Tony. That’s why one-night-stands had been his go-to before everything that happened,  _ happened _ \- no strings attached and therefore no weird feelings that he needed to sort through. Perfect for his particular brand of emotional constipation.

He put Peter to bed in his cot - the poor kid was so tired that he hadn’t even needed a story for him to fall asleep, and as he looked at the boy’s perfect little face, he knew that while he had never thought that happiness would be something he could achieve, he had certainly found it now. It was just a question of whether he deserved it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so that happened. Leave kudos if you liked it (though who am I kidding, if you've stuck with this fic for so long without leaving kudos, what are you doing?), but I really love comments. They make me feel happy and validated :D


	13. Halloweeeeeeeeeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm really sorry that it's been so long since this updated. School's been hitting hard, and assessment season has just started, so you probably won't get another chapter for another two weeks, but I just wanted to make sure you guys got a little something before I buried myself in work :D  
Beware, there is a criminal amount of easter eggs in here, hope you enjoy!

October 31st 2002

Halloween had never been an important part of Tony’s childhood. His father had deemed it ‘silly’ and ‘unnecessary’ - how was Tony supposed to be worthy of the Stark name if he was busy running around the streets, with sugar pumping through his veins and a pirate hat on his head?

He remembered sitting in his room one Halloween night as he poured over pages and pages of complex mathematics. He’d tried to ignore the shouts of glee from outside, the peals of laughter as they rang through the dark sky, but it had been hard. His ten-year-old self had liked maths, but candy was so much better. 

The equations had barely gotten another glance that night. All he could do was stare wistfully out of his window, watching as the costumed children ran in a chaotic pattern down the street, steadfastly ignoring his own, sullen, reflection in the glass.

The next year, he had tried to sneak out. Armed with a plain white bed sheet, which he had cut two, shaky circles into the night before (his main source of information on Halloween had been movies, so his costume choice hadn’t been the most creative), he had quietly opened the door and exited the house.

The night was chilly, and it made Tony glad that he had thought to bring a coat. The beginnings of winter were starting to slip into the air, and he planned to enjoy the last few weeks of tolerable temperatures, before they dipped below freezing and he was stuck inside his house, working on anything that his father thought needed improvement... so basically everything -  _ “you’ve got to be smarter than this, Anthony. The future head of my company will not make mistakes. Stark men do not make mistakes.”  _

He’d been so close to freedom. So close to escaping the cloying walls of the Stark mansion and stepping away from his legacy for just a moment. So close to allowing himself to have a little bit of fun, just for once. 

But then a stormy voice had sounded from behind him, followed by heavy, angry footsteps. “Anthony Stark, where do you think you’re going?”

That had been the last time he’d tried to sneak out for a long, long time.

When he got to MIT, there were Halloween parties, but they weren’t the innocent, fun affairs that he’d hoped for them to be. There was drinking, pounding music and flashing lights. Half-naked girls who were drunk off their asses and draping themselves carelessly over the person closest to them. Tony had gotten drunk off his ass with them, and sincerely regretted it the morning after when he woke up feeling like he’d just fallen down a flight of stairs and then gone on a Tilt-A-Whirl ride at the carnival. 

But even then, there had been the ever-present threat of Howard Stark, hanging over his head. The knowledge that his father would be disappointed in him no matter what he did, but still had the expectation that Tony would take over his company - he’d never gotten any other choice. He had felt like a bird - like he was trapped in a cage far too small for him, and his wings had been clipped. All he had wanted to do was fly, but all he could ever do was fall.

He had never had a proper Halloween, the kind where he dressed up in a shitty costume that he’d gotten from the dollar store down the road, and then traipsed through the streets as the sun sank below the horizon, with a pillowcase full of candy and a chest full of laughter. 

He had missed out on that particular childhood experience, and there was no way that he would ever let Peter be able to say the same.

~~~

Technically speaking, this was not Peter’s first Halloween. The baby had been present in the world on October 31st last year, but he’d only been two months old then, and Tony had still been adjusting to his new role as a father, so the holiday hadn’t exactly been at the top of their to-do list.

Now, however, Tony was diving headfirst into the convoluted plans that he’d managed to come up with. Costumes, decorations and candy filed through his brain during every waking minute, and several late night planning sessions with Pepper, Rhodey and Happy had led to quite a few genius ideas, born from nothing more than delirium and coffee. 

He and Peter were teaming up with their costumes, obviously, and what they had chosen was hilarious (or so Tony thought. Pepper told him that it was cheesy, and that it was just his Dad Humour feeding him false information). 

Tony was going as Doc, from Back To The Future, and Peter was going to be Marty. Though, the gross scientific inaccuracies in the movie made Tony want to pull his hair out.

_ As if time travel is possible _ , he thought with a mental eyeroll that would make anyone dizzy. Obviously, Quantum fluctuation would mess with the Planck scale, which would then trigger the Deutsch Proposition.  _ Time travel _ , a ridiculous notion, honestly, any idiot could see that, and any person who was foolish enough to try deserved every hour of wasted time they got. 

Nevertheless, it was a pretty good movie. According to Happy, Tony really suited the mad-scientist-old-man vibe that Doc gave off. He had qualms about the ‘old man’ part of that label, but he was fine with being called a mad scientist. He was mad, and he was some kind of backwards scientist - if the shoe fits and all that.

It was six thirty-three in the evening, and the sun had set half an hour ago, but Peter had thrown a tantrum about the four different layers that Tony had tried to wrangle him into. He was fine with the red singlet, and plaid shirt, but once the denim jacket and bright orange puffer vest were put on, the baby started fussing. 

“C’mon, Petey, it’s chilly outside. Gotta have all your layers, we don’t want you catching a cold now, do we?”

“No!” the kid shrieked, his high voice making Tony wince. “No,  _ no no no _ !” He would swear on his mother’s grave that Peter had some sort of superpower that allowed him to incapacitate people with just the shrill pitch of his voice. After all the hanky panky Captain America shit that had gone down all those years ago, Tony wouldn’t exactly be surprised if his son somehow had powers too.

Eventually he managed to distract Peter from his discomfort by offering him his favourite toy (a stuffed cow, aptly named Moo-Moo), and they waddled down to the foyer. Tony’s wig was itching his scalp, and big tufts of white hair kept dangling into his eyes.  _ This _ was why he had avoided the long hair trend of the 70s and 80s, it was a danger hazard in the lab and it was _ really goddamn annoying _ .

Happy greeted them in front of the door, dressed as a mechanic. The man hadn’t put very much effort into his costume, having stolen a wrench and one of the dark grey jumpsuits that Tony kept in his lab for the rare occasions when he felt like making sure his clothes didn't get oil stained and ripped. Rhodey wobbled in next, looking absolutely radiant in one of Pepper’s business suits, though the high heels that he’d forced his feet into offset the elegance and grace a little bit, because the man looked like he was about to fall over at any moment. 

Tony just wanted to know how the man had managed to squeeze himself into one of Pepper’s suits. Pepper was slight, and while Rhodey was by no means a bulky man, the seams of the navy blazer looked like they were three seconds away from ripping apart. 

Rhodey and Pepper had decided to do gender bender costumes together, so the woman would be showing up any minute now wearing one of Rhodey’s Air Force uniforms, and looking absolutely stunning if Tony knew anything about her.

The  _ tap tap _ of heels against marble floors alerted Tony to her presence, and he turned around to see her descending the staircase. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept into a low bun, and the hat that Tony had so often mocked Rhodey for wearing sat jauntily atop her head. Somehow, the uniform fit her perfectly, as if it had been tailored, though he wondered how she’d managed to find anyone to do it so well at such short notice. If anyone was capable of that though, it’d be Pepper.

Once everyone was ready, they headed out, walking down the hill that his mansion was perched on, the lights of Malibu getting steadily closer as the steep incline smoothed out. Rhodey didn’t stop complaining about the high heels the entire time, and Happy had to keep a hand nearby the man, because he kept stumbling, all the while sending amazed looks at Pepper, who was strutting down the path like it was a catwalk made just for her. Tony couldn’t help but admire the woman for just a second, the way the early moonlight glinted in her eyes and cast shadows across her angular face. 

But then Peter, who’d been toddling along beside him, fell on his butt, and refused to move any further unless he was carried. Right, Peter. The son whom he loved with all his heart, and had decided to focus on for now.

Trick or Treating was fun, but hearing Rhodey’s complaints about the high heels and pencil skirt were downright comical. “I feel like I’m stuck inside a toilet paper roll while someone repeatedly pokes my feet with knives. How do you do this  _ every day _ , Pepper?”

The woman had only smiled as she said, “talent.”

The most amusing event of the night (narrowly beating when Rhodey tripped over the curb and landing face first in a puddle), occurred when they knocked on the door of a seemingly normal house, and a  _ tiny _ woman had answered. She couldn’t have been over five feet, and she made Tony feel tall, which meant he instantly liked her. It wasn’t every day that he got to feel tall.

“Just a minute, I’m not finished with my decorations yet!” she cried, sticking a single finger up in the universal gesture for, ‘a moment, please’. 

She disappeared back inside her house, and Tony could have sworn he heard the clashing of pots, a cat screeching and at least one breakable falling from a high place - all the classic cartoon sounds that indicated a kerfuffle of some kind. 

He was just about to knock again to see if she was alright when, without warning, the door burst open again, and the tiny woman bustled out, lugging a ginormous pumpkin-man behind her. It had to have been at least two feet taller than she was, and facial carvings were expertly done - a gaping mouth filled with jagged teeth and sharp, triangular eyes.

She stationed it in her front yard, and then hurried back inside, apologising profusely and completely oblivious to their half-stunned, half-amused faces. By the time she was finished, there were three pumpkin-men standing resolutely in the yard, one dressed as a witch, one as a zombie, and one with a simple red scarf intricately embroidered with a cobweb design around its neck. 

The tiny, tiny lady proceeded to dump four Mars Bars into their flabbergasted hands, and disappeared back inside with a stern warning to, “wait there.” She returned moments later with a container filled to the brim with heavenly-smelling spaghetti, as an apology for making them wait, before bidding them adieu and slamming the door shut. Their laughter made several people on the street turn and look at them strangely, but it was Halloween, who cared?

As six thirty turned into seven thirty, more and more people started filling the streets. The crowds went from giggling toddlers and young children to raucous preteens, and Tony cast his thoughts back, trying to remember if he’d been  _ that _ annoying when he was twelve. He hoped not, because he’d gotten the urge to kick at least three of the little turds when their boisterous actions had gotten a little too close for comfort. Would Peter go through a little turd phase? It was hard to imagine his sweet boy as a loud, snot-faced brat, but anything could happen. He’d just have to utilise his super-duper parent powers and  _ not _ screw the kid up. Seemed easy enough, in theory.

The good thing about the darkness was that no one recognised Tony. He supposed the enormous, fluffy wig and the science goggles on his forehead helped a bit, but even his goatee was more recognisable than half of the celebrities in the world, and Peter was a rather well-known face too.

By eight o’clock, Peter was drooping like a daisy that had gone without water for three days. He’d curled up in his dad’s arms, little head pressed close to Tony’s chest as his eyelids fluttered shut. 

Naturally, at the moment when everything was peaceful, someone had to ruin it. 

Pepper was keeping pace beside Tony, and Happy and Rhodey were fighting each other with the two pillow cases of candy that they’d managed to collect, when someone burst out of the bushes that were off to Tony’s right and snapped a photo. The flash blinded him momentarily, and by the time he’d gotten his sight back, there was a group of six or seven reporters all clamoring for his attention. 

Happy and Rhodey had snapped back to attention, automatically moving between Peter and Tony, and the reporters, though no one was taking Rhodey seriously due to the way he was dressed. Was that a sad commentary on the state of their society? Probably, but Tony didn’t have time to dwell on it as Peter started to howl, the flashing lights and loud noises having woken him from his doze.

The sight of his son in distress always played with Tony’s heartstrings, and now was no different. He’d do anything to make sure Peter was happy, including yelling at a bunch of vulture-like reporters. 

“Hey! Hey, stop it! Everybody  _ quiet _ !” Tony bellowed, and his last word rang in the sudden silence of the night. The reporters stopped for a second, gaping at him, and Tony grabbed the silence like a lifeline.

“Happy, go get the car, we’ll stay to satiate them for a bit, but have it here in the next five minutes. Go!” he muttered to the man, and Happy jogged off, disappearing around the corner in seconds to do as Tony had asked. They may have walked there, but Tony wasn’t stupid - of course he was going to have a car nearby in case something went wrong, though he was expecting something more along the lines of Rhodey breaking his ankle because he can’t walk in heels, rather than a horde of reporters ambushing them. 

“Now, we’re going to have an impromptu press conference, I guess, but if you wake Peter up I will sue every single one of you for the measly amount you’re worth. Get it? Got it? Good,” Tony hissed at the reporters, combing his fingers through his son’s hair and rocking him gently, praying the actions would help the baby fall back asleep. They worked like a charm, of course.

A reporter stuck her hand up, the spider legs that she had sticking out of her sides as part of some cheapskate costume jiggling dangerously as she did so. “Who are you and your son dressed as, Mr Stark?”

“Seriously? Doctor Brown and Marty McFly! Please tell me you know who I’m talking about.”

“I do, but why did you choose those costumes?” she replied.

Tony merely shrugged. “Good movie.”

“What milestones has Peter achieved since we last heard about him?” Another reporter said, inching his neon green recording device a little closer to where Tony was standing, with Pepper looking firm and sharp on one side, and Rhodey, looking a little rumpled but no less serious, on the other.

“Uh, Jesus, when did I last talk to the press? Before his first birthday, was it, Ms Potts?”

“About a month before, yes,” she said, not taking her eyes off the group of reporters.

“Well, he’s started talking. His first word was Moo-Moo, because he loves cows, but his second was Dada,” Tony answered, not even bothering to hide the soft, proud smile that was curling his lips. A few cameras flashed, and Tony shot the group an annoyed look. Why couldn’t they just let him father in peace? “Hm, what else? He can walk pretty well now, but he’s as clumsy as anything. He’s walked into almost every wall in the house, and it gives me a heart attack every single time.”

A honk sounded, interrupting the impromptu interview, and Tony glanced up to see the DeLorean that he may or may not have bought specifically for this occasion parked on the side of the road, with a not-very-amused Happy sitting in the driver’s seat. He heard Rhodey snort with barely concealed laughter behind him. 

“Well, that’s my cue. Until next time, which, offense intended, is hopefully not for a while,” Tony said as he took a few shuffling steps towards the car and opened the back door.

Pepper slid in next to him and fixed him with a smug look.

Tony sighed. “I know, I know. You told me to hold a press conference earlier because the media were getting impatient to hear more about Peter. You were right, I was wrong, all that jazz. Was that what you wanted to hear?”

“You forgot the part where you call yourself an idiot for not listening to me, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” Pepper smiled, reaching a hand out to smooth down Peter’s hair. 

The baby was still asleep, having somehow managed to ignore all the movement and dramatics of the past five minutes in favour of getting his forty winks. Worry flashed briefly in Tony’s mind. Had he tired Peter out too much with the late night (for a fourteen-month-old baby)? Would this one late night set him up for a lifetime of bad sleep patterns and exhaustion? Was Tony doing the overthinking thing that Pepper always told him would be his downfall? 

~~~

The next day, the internet was overtaken by a storm of articles about ‘Tony and Peter Stark: Time Travelling Duo,’ and ‘Top Ten Photos that Prove Tony Stark is the Perfect Dad.’ 

Tony’s personal favourite, however, was a little website that was debating the question whether Marty McFly’s vest was red, or orange. It seemed to think that Peter’s vest, which had been orange, had the final say in the argument. The best thing about the website though, was the photo that they included. It was Peter, with his hair messed up and his eyes bleary, staring dopily into the camera, one side of the collar of his vest sticking up and giving him the appearance of a bedraggled puppy. The caption underneath said something along the lines of ‘I couldn’t resist including this one, look how  _ cute _ he is!’ and Tony couldn’t agree more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, I love to hear what you guys think, or leave a kudos if you haven't already, which is probably very unlikely if you've gotten this far.  
Thanks for reading!


	14. Christmas 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lads, how's it going.  
We have another chapter here, and get liked because inside is a highly requested meeting... hope it's satisfactory.  
Stay safe guys!

December 25th 2002

Peter’s second Christmas was not as big an affair as his first, the main reason for that being there were simply less people.

Pepper’s mother’s condition had worsened dramatically with the chilly weather, so Tony had told her to pack her stuff and spend Christmas with her. It hadn’t taken much convincing, he could tell she was desperate to see the older woman, but she’d felt bad for leaving, and had given him strict instructions to, “give Peter lots of hugs and kisses for me.”

Rhodey was somewhere deep in the Peruvian mountains on a top-secret mission for the army. In fact, Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t even supposed to know that Rhodey was somewhere deep in the Peruvian mountains, but he was the army’s top weapons supplier, which meant he had friends in  _ very _ high places.

Henry Leeds was, of course, spending time with his own family, though they’d arranged to meet up for a Boxing Day lunch (not brunch, thank God - his last tangle with the stupid ‘meal’ had not improved his opinion of them), so the boys could see each other again. And maybe a little for their own benefit too. They really were getting along like a house on fire.

Happy was the only person in his little inner circle that wasn’t busy, and so he’d eagerly invited the man over for Christmas dinner, but that still left a whole day of nothing before he arrived. Tony was sure that he and Peter would find something to do, he just didn’t know  _ what _ that something would be quite yet.

His pondering was interrupted by shrieks coming from Peter’s room, and Tony sighed as he put the cup of coffee he’d been nursing down on the bench. He’d need to remember where he left that, otherwise it’d get cold, even with the fancy mugs he’d bought that supposedly kept his drink warmer for five times longer than a normal mug. It was bullshit, if you asked Tony, but no one ever did.

Peter’s vocabulary had come along quite a lot in the last few months. He, at sixteen months, had the speech ability of the average two-year-old, according to Doctor Lantzer. While that was amazing, and it probably meant Peter was going to take after his father in the whole genius department, it was also annoying at nine o’clock in the morning, when Tony was either sleeping, or peacefully drinking coffee , only to be distrubed by a little voice calling, “Daddy! Daddy, eyes open!”

Of course, the fact that Peter called him ‘Daddy’, and told him he was awake by saying “eyes open” completely made up for it. His son was honestly the cutest thing he’d ever experienced.

He strolled down the hallway, following the cries of “Daddy, Daddy!” until he got to Peter’s room.    
“Hey, Petey-Pie!” Tony said, smiling at his son, who was gripping onto the bars of his cot for stability while he swayed on his feet. The kid still acted like a tiny drunk most of the time, and he had the balance of one too, which meant Tony had way too many heart palpitations for a thirty-something year old.

“Daddy! Daddy, eyes open!”   


“Yeah, bud, I can see that. My eyes are open too,” Tony chuckled, scooping his son into his arms, grunting a little at the weight he still wasn’t used to. Peter was finally starting to grow, and while he’d probably never be as big as the other kids, thanks to the dramatic fashion in which he’d entered the world, he wouldn’t be too far off if the rate he was going at the moment indicated anything. “Ready for brekkie?”

“Brekkie!” While Peter had the ability to string words together to form sentences (Tony had once heard him say, “No, Pep, I don’t want broc’li,” with so much sass that it had been like staring into a mirror for just a second), he often used just one or two words to communicate.

They made their way back to the kitchen, Tony grabbing his coffee mug from the bench and swallowing the last mouthful, careful not to do so anywhere near Peter. The kid had developed the tendency to grab anything near him, and hot coffee (well, lukewarm coffee), plus a hyperactive and dramatic baby, equaled... not something Tony wanted or needed to experience. 

He plopped Peter on the bench, knowing that the kid preferred to sit there over his high chair - the genius suspected it was so he could see his dad better from the bench, and he kicked up a fuss when Tony was out of sight for too long. However, the fact that Peter was on the bench meant that he had to pay extra close attention to his movements. The kid seemed to understand that going anywhere near the edge would result in a mini heart attack for Tony, so he hadn’t ventured there yet, but he couldn’t be too safe. Peter was getting more and more adventurous by the day.

Doctor Lantzer had told him that holding a conversation with Peter would both keep the baby entertained, and help him to develop his language skills, so that was what he did as he set about making the kid’s breakfast (oatmeal and blueberries). “It’s Christmas today, bud. Know what that means?”

“Presents!”

“That’s right, kiddo,” Tony laughed. “But not till Uncle Happy gets here, okay?”

“Unc’a Hap?”

“Yep, he’s coming later, so what are we going to do for the rest of the day?” Almost as soon as he said it, he regretted it. Whenever Peter was given the opportunity to choose what he wanted to do, he’d point down the stairs to Tony’s lab - the  _ one _ place in the mansion that he wasn’t allowed to go, and then Tony would have to say  _ no _ , which he hated doing because Peter could pull a damn good disappointed face for a baby. But, he had to remind himself, it was for a good reason. There were so many dangerous things down there, and sure Tony could probably stop anything bad from happening just by holding onto Peter, but the bots were still an issue, and Peter was so, so  _ delicate- _

A memory from last week flashed through his mind. Peter tripped and literally rolled down the stairs to the lab, and then got up like nothing was wrong. His son was way past the delicate newborn stage, closer instead to the invincible (and therefore terrible) two’s. 

He’d promised the bots that they’d get to meet Peter when he was less fragile, and they were kind of like his first few children, or maybe pets, DUM-E especially, as chaotic and clumsy as he may be. Tony had made the bot back in his MIT days, and he’d been mid-way through a three-day bender for a good portion of the coding process. Untangling what his drunk-self had done resulted in a headache that was almost as bad as the one he got from the hangover after his bender, but it resulted in the metaphorical birth of DUM-E, so he wasn’t complaining too much.

Maybe lab time with his son was possible? He could clear out a space and make it safe for an almost toddler. For now though, he could probably get away with taking the kid down to the lab for a few minutes, as long as he kept a tight hold on him and warned the bots to be as gentle as possible. 

“You wanna go down to the lab, huh, kiddo?”

Peter merely looked at him, seeming to gear up for the disappointment that normally followed.

“Alright, I guess that can be arranged,” Tony sighed as he plopped the bowl of oatmeal and blueberries in front of the kid. Peter’s face split into a huge grin, the few teeth that he had sticking out adorably. Tony wasn’t sure whether the smile was from the fact that he was finally allowed to enter the lab, or that he’d just been given his favourite breakfast.

Once Peter had half eaten his oatmeal, and smeared the rest of it all over himself, it was bathtime. Tony never let Peter eat in anything other than a diaper, because the kid was the messiest eater known to man. Feeding him while he was virtually naked was just easier. 

Luckily, the regularity with which Tony needed to bathe Peter had made the baby calmer during the experience. Gone were the days of screaming, crying and an altogether miserable time for both of them when suds were involved, because now Peter loved water. He’d been eyeing up the pool in the backyard for a while, and Tony was toying with the idea of introducing him to it when the weather got a little warmer.

Once Peter was clean and dressed (in jeans, red-spotted socks, a plaid shirt, and a grey sweater with a cartoon fox printed onto the fabric) they made their way down to the lab, the baby jiggling up and down excitedly on Tony’s hip. 

Peter’s curls flopped this way and that as he moved, and the genius ran a hand through them, partially to try and calm the boy, and partially because as the locks grew longer, he found himself having to resist the temptation to play with them more often. 

The baby would need a haircut soon, and he was dreading that day, whenever it came. Peter was unable to sit still for more than ten minutes at a time, and a haircut would surely take longer than that, even if it was just for a baby, right? He’d have to do some research on that topic.

They neared the door of the lab, and Peter peered excitedly through the large glass windows as Tony scanned his hand on the sensor.

JARVIS greeted them as the door slid open, “Hello, sir, I see you’ve brought young Master Peter along with you today.”

“Indeed I have, J. I’m going to introduce him to the bots, give him the grand tour, you know how it is.”

“It’s JJ! Daddy, it’s JJ, ev’rywhere!” Peter shrieked, delight colouring his voice. The baby had developed an adorable little relationship with Tony’s AI, wherein Peter was absolutely enthralled by the mysterious voice that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and JARVIS was mildly amused by the kid’s shenanigans, of which there were many.

“Sure is, Petey, he’s my assistant down here.”

“Stasstistant,” Peter repeated, concentration evident in the small frown line between his eyebrows as he tried to commit the word to memory. It’s what the baby did whenever he stumbled upon a word he didn’t know, and Tony felt his heart swell with pride each time he watched his son learn something new. Sure, there were too many s’s and t’s, but no one was perfect, and Peter somehow made saying improper pronunciation cute, so Tony wasn’t complaining.

There was a high pitched beeping from one of the far corners of the lab, and both Peter and Tony’s heads swiveled in the direction of the noise. DUM-E came rocketing out from behind a bench, going at full speed (which was a rough 5km/h, but still scary in an enclosed space), and Tony had barely enough time to jump out of the way. 

U and Butterfingers followed their companion at a much more relaxed pace. They’d been constructed a few years after DUM-E, when Tony decided that the bot needed some friends. It wasn’t good for anyone to be alone for too long. He’d been older, more experienced, and sober (at the time, though that hadn’t lasted long), so they’d turned out a little more sensible than his other crazy bot. There was a reason one of them was called Butterfingers though, so they definitely weren’t perfect. Maybe he just had a penchant for making crazy things. Exhibit A: Peter.

The baby in question was currently alternating between staring down at the bots, and then looking up at his dad with a grumpy frown. “Down!”

Tony stifled a smile. Peter rarely demanded anything, despite how often Tony complained about how bratty his son was (he was a really good kid, honestly, probably had better manners than most teenagers, but it was the  _ principle _ of things).

But when the baby did want something, Tony could rarely keep a straight face (mind you, he could rarely say no, either, so he wasn’t really one to question the effectiveness). It was hard to take the baby seriously with his chubby cheeks and fluffy hair. 

“Sorry, kiddo, if I let you down, DUM-E will probably run you over.” The bot was repeatedly rolling into Tony’s leg as he spoke, and he winced when it happened again. He’d probably find a bruise there later. “Oi, DUM-E, quit it. You saw me yesterday! What’s with the bashing?”

A beep followed, and DUM-E’s one mechanic arm gestured at Peter questioningly. The baby giggled and reached out to the bot. 

“Ah ah, no touching!” Tony squawked, not sure whether he was talking to DUM-E or Peter as he pulled the baby away from the arm. Goodness knows what solid metal, utilised by an essentially drunk bot, could do to a child. “Alright, introductions. Peter, this is DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers. Bots, this is my son.”

There was a ruckus of beeping from the bots as they realised just who the new human in their domain was. Instantly, three mechanical arms stretched up to where Peter was being held securely in his dad’s arms, and Tony nearly spiralled into a panic. 

His kid was all little fingers and toes, curious, wandering hands, and right now he had no sense of self preservation or danger. God he hoped that was something children acquired with age. Then again, if the baby was anything like his father, they were all screwed. 

But then his racing heart calmed and his breathing slowed, because the bots were being… gentle? He’d never seen any of them treat anything with even the remotest sense of care - he’d had to baby proof this lab before Peter was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye purely because they were all the most chaotic klutz’s that ever roamed the Earth - yet here they were, letting Peter reach out and pat their arms, stilling as his small hands neared their joints so he wouldn’t get pinched. Was it possible his bots were actually reading the situation for once? Had they seen the protective way he curled his arms around his son’s little body, or how he’d almost passed out from anxiety when they reached up to touch him? Had he managed to code three AI’s that were a little more intelligent than he gave them credit for? Damn, sometimes he surprised even himself with his genius.

He didn’t dare to put Peter on the ground by himself though, where moving wheels and churning engines put his son’s well-being at even greater risk, but he did crouch down with the baby perched on his knee, muscles poised to jerk up and away from the bots if need be. The time never arose through, and the bots surged closer enthusiastically but did not get any rougher with their actions.

Peter turned away from the bots for a second to look at his dad, a ridiculously wide smile - seriously, Tony’s cheeks hurt just looking at it - plastered on his face. There was a bit of drool on his chin, and, as gross as it was, that was how Tony knew the kid was really, really happy about something. Whenever Peter smiled so hard that he physically couldn’t contain the drool, he was ecstatic. The only thing that Tony could do to make it happen consistently was put Shrek on their huge tv (the movie was Peter’s new favourite, and Tony was so,  _ so _ excited for when the kid grew up a bit and could understand all the  _ adult  _ jokes in it).

They stayed in the lab for ten more minutes before Tony’s heart had dealt with about as much as it could handle, and they left, much to the dismay of both Peter and the bots, who’d somehow managed to fall in love with each other in the fifteen minutes since they’d met. 

Jesus Christ, parents should get a monthly salary or something - he’d need some way to pay for the cardiac surgery that he would definitely require sometime in the next ten years, thanks to the strain that the stress of parenting put on his heart. 

~~~

Peter was napping, and Tony was typing away at his computer, trying and failing not to hit the keys too aggressively. Obadiah was hounding him to come back to work. Apparently he was an ‘essential worker’ and ‘necessary to the survival of the company.’ Tony called bullshit, and said about as much in his passive aggressive email back to the man. Stark Industries had managed just fine without him in the past sixteen months (God, had it really been  _ that _ long?), so why did Obie feel the need to disrupt his peace  _ now _ ? 

He’d said he would go back when Peter was two (though, knowing himself, he’d try to get even more time off if he could), and Peter was most definitely  _ not _ two. He’d kindly told Obadiah to fuck off and stop hassling him, but judging by the four emails in his inbox from the man, the message hadn’t been recieved. 

He was abruptly jerked from his cranky thoughts by a cry of alarm, coming from Peter’s room. The speed with which he shot up from his spot on the couch sent cracks throughout all of his joints, but he was too busy panicking because there had just been a  _ cry of alarm _ from his  _ son’s _ room. His son should never be alarmed. Never.

The feeling of dashing to his kid’s room and bursting through the doorway only to find Peter with one leg lifted almost above his head, stuck on the top of the railing of his crib, was not one Tony could describe with ease. There’d been relief, because at least his son wasn’t being kidnapped or something, but also horror, because Peter had been trying to climb over the railing of his crib, without having alerted Tony to the fact that he was awake, and if his leg hadn’t gotten stuck, it was very likely he would’ve fallen from the crib and onto the floor and that was a  _ terrifying _ thought. What if he’d hurt himself? 

“Oh, Pumpkin,” Tony sighed as his son began to cry. The position he was in looked anything but comfortable, and it was probably even a little painful. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here,” Tony cooed as he scooped Peter up and rocked him gently. 

Doctor Lantzer had warned him about the independent phase and the climbing phase that would come as Peter edged closer to that infamous twenty-four month mark, but so far all his son had tried to do was ‘help’ the housekeeper as she cleaned the house.

He’d ended up prying the vacuum cleaner open and getting a faceful of dust that had sent him into a coughing fit so bad that Tony had been minutes away from taking him to the hospital. He’d called Rhodey  _ three _ times that day, and the poor man had been just as clueless about what to do as him.

The baby had also tried to climb onto the couch a few times by himself, to no avail. Peter may be crazily advanced in some aspects of his development, but he was relatively average in others. 

This, though? This trying to exit the crib all by himself was new. And terrifying. He’d have to tell JARVIS to watch out for another situation like this one.

Speaking of the AI… “sir, Mr Hogan was at the door. I took the liberty of letting him in and directing him to your location.”

Sure enough, Tony could hear footsteps making their way towards them, and he thanked his lucky stars that JARVIS had warned him that Happy was coming, because in his on-edge state (thanks to Peter trying to throw himself out of his crib), he probably would have flown straight into fight mode if he’d been surprised by anyone.

“Tony! How’s my favourite kid named Peter?” Happy called, smiling slightly as he dropped the bags of presents he’d been carrying. Peter was one of the few people who could make Happy Hogan smile on a regular basis - by now, Tony had figured out that his son just had special endearing powers. When he was older he’d probably be labelled the most charming man alive by the media, and Tony prayed that’s all he’d be labelled. Didn't want him following in  _ all _ the footsteps of his old man, afterall. 

“You only know one Peter, Hap.”

“Actually my sister’s kid is called Peter, but he’s a little shit, which is why  _ your _ Peter is my favourite. It’s also why I’m spending Christmas with you instead of her.”

“Uh huh, what’d we say about leaving your family drama at the door?”

“Fine, fine, let me see him! Is he supposed to have grown that much?”

“I’m not sure. Doctor Lantzer said it was normal, but I’m still sceptical.”

Happy approached and held his arms out to Peter, who giggled at the sight of his pseudo uncle. “Unc’a Hap!”

“Yeah it’s me, Pete. Missed you,” the older man replied as Tony reluctantly handed the baby over to him. Peter received a tight squeeze which made him squeal in delight.

“Miss you,” Peter echoed back, patting the man clumsily on the cheek. Tony could physically see Happy melt, but he wasn’t one to judge because he was melting too.

“So, fill me in. What’s been going on. I havet seen you in, what, a week?” Tony said, turning to Happy.   


“That’s not very long, you know.”   


“I’m sorry, should I not care about your life?”   


“Yeah, can’t you just be a normal boss and scream at me before docking my pay?” Happy griped back, though the smile that was turning his lips up at the corner revealed how he really felt.

“Well, you better be ready to catch up over Shrek.”

“Shrek?”   


“Peter’s new favourite movie. We’ve got a while until dinner is ready and Peter just woke up from his nap, which means he’s going to be hungry and bored.”

“What happened to Ice Age?”

“It got knocked out of the top spot by Donkey.”

“Fair enough, the movie is a masterpiece.”

“Try saying that after you’ve watched it for the eleventh time in as many days.”

“Jesus, at least this is something you’ll be able to hold over his head when he’s older.”

“I’m planning on it.”

~~~

Christmas dinner was uneventful,  _ normal _ , and the change of pace was refreshing. Sometimes, Tony wondered just how different his life would be right now if his father hadn’t been Howard Stark. If he hadn’t gotten more warmth from the spotlight he’d been thrust under, rather than his own father. But then, he probably wouldn’t have developed his unhealthy little coping mechanism to deal with the aching loneliness in his chest, which meant Peter would never have sprung into existence, and that reality was not one he wanted to deal with. 

But all the same, being famous, one of the world’s richest men, the most eligible bachelor (though he was pretty sure he’d fallen way down on the latter ranking since he met Peter), being  _ Tony Stark _ , was exhausting. So, it was a pleasant change to have a nice dinner, courtesy of the housekeeper. 

Tony had paid her three times her normal salary, which was pretty high to begin with - one of the perks of being the housekeeper of a billionaire - to cook a simple Christmas dinner for them. He would have done it himself, but his talent was limited to the lab. Basic meals for Peter were a struggle enough. 

The festivities were light and carefree. They exchanged presents, Peter ate his weight in mashed potatoes and promptly fell into a food coma, Happy almost knocked three glasses of eggnog off the table (he was a ridiculously expressive speaker once he relaxed a bit), which caused Tony to double-check that the bottle really was alcohol-free. It was uneventful, or as uneventful as Christmas dinner in the Stark household could be.

Peter’s second Christmas hadn’t had nearly as many people in it, but it had been a success all on its own, and that’s all Tony could have asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll liked it!  
Comments literally make my day... please :D


	15. Happy Is Not Happy (And Neither Is Peter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Would you look at that! Another chapter!  
I don't know guys, I was really looking forward to this one and I felt motivated by all your responses and requests. I love it, keep 'em coming.  
Anyway, this chapter's pretty highly requested, but I mostly incorporated Lu, and Fangirlin1019's requests in this chap.  
Hope you guys like it, stay safe :D

April 3rd 2003

Tony was three seconds away from grabbing the closest sharp object and throwing it at the man sitting across from him. Could he claim self-defense in court if it was his sanity at risk rather than his physical well being?

“Obadiah, for the  _ last _ time, there’s still four months until Peter turns two, which means you won't see me at work for four more months. It’s not that hard to follow.”

“I understand that, Tony, and I understand you want to spend time with your son, but this is  _ just one meeting _ . That’s all I’m asking of you, and then I’ll leave you alone the rest of your leave. I might even help push your request for more time through.”

Tony ignored the subtle bribery, though he had to admit that more time off with Peter was definitely something he wanted. “Why is this one so important? You’ve managed just fine without me for well over a year so far, what’s changed?”   


“Some of our shareholders are getting restless, Tony. They think that you aren’t prioritising the business, and they have a point. I need them to at least see you doing something work-related.”   


“The whole reason I took time off was so I could prioritise my  _ son _ over the business, so yeah, they  _ do _ have a point.”

“Tony,  _ please _ . I am  _ begging _ you. Just one meeting to satiate them. It won’t run for over three hours, I swear.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples and looking down at his lap. His arms itched to curl around Peter, as they always did when he was stressed. Gone were the days where he calmed his nerves with the bitter taste of alcohol as it burned it’s way down his throat. Now, a cuddle with his son was his number one coping mechanism - it was so sappy, but at least it was healthier than his previous methods of dealing with stress. But Peter was being entertained by Happy in the living room, and Tony was having a ‘discussion’ with Obadiah Stane - the one man he really didn’t want to see right now, or ever, for that matter - in his office, which was still in a ridiculously messy state. He just couldn’t be bothered to clean up all the paper in there. If someone wasn’t bothering him about all the forms he hadn’t signed, or the contracts he hadn’t read, they probably hadn’t been that important in the first place. That was the philosophy he’d lived by for the past twelve years while he’d been in charge of the company, and he certainly wasn’t going to stop now, especially when he had better things to do. “Fine,  _ one _ meeting. When?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Ugh, you didn’t even give me time to emotionally and mentally prepare myself.”

“I’ve been trying to contact you for the last two weeks. It’s not my fault that you’ve been ignoring my calls and emails.”

“Okay, fine, this one’s on me. But who’s going to look after Peter? Or maybe I could just bring…”   
“No. You can’t take your infant child into the meeting. Don’t you have an employee you can pass the kid off on for a few hours?”

“He’s a toddler, not an infant, and we’ve talked about this, Obadiah. Stop making Peter sound like a burden every time you talk about him. It’s even worse now because he can understand you, and is in control enough of his emotions to feel upset.”   


“Yes, yes, your child is smart. It’s not exactly unexpected, given his parentage.”   


“Did I hear a compliment somewhere in there, Obie?” Without meaning to, Tony found himself slipping back into the old rhythm he used to practice with the man he used to consider as a mentor, if not father figure. It had been a while since he’d last talked to him in person, so the residual anger from their previous encounters had simmered down to almost nothing. That, and the fact Obie seemed to have come to begrudgingly accept that Tony had fallen in love with Peter, and fatherhood, which meant the kid was here to stay. 

“Maybe. I must be going now.  _ Thank you _ for agreeing to this, Tony.”

“Yeah yeah, old man. You owe me. You better try to swing that extra paternity leave for me,” Tony reminded, standing up with Obadiah and shaking his hand. 

“Thanks for stopping by. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but honestly you’ve dragged me away from my kid for longer than I find pleasurable. You know the way out.” Tony walked away from the man, who seemed unfazed by his abruptness. Obie was probably used to his penchant to say whatever was on his mind after all these years. 

He jogged up the stairs, ignoring the way his footsteps echoed solemnly in the practically empty house. Rhodey had come out of his top-secret mission in the Peruvian mountains with a fractured wrist. Tony and Peter had visited the man in the hospital, and he’d been fine, but as soon as the doctor had given him the all-clear for active duty, he’d been sent on another mission - the location so classified that not even the genius had been able to find out where it was. 

His best friend had joined the Air Force straight out of MIT, and had enjoyed every second of it. But because of that, Tony had been forced to conceal just how much the thought of Rhodey in the midst of battle scared him. His friend loved what he did, so Tony was determined not to ruin it for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t freak out when the man wasn’t there to see it. He’d spent many a night lately wondering if he’d wake up to a call telling him his best friend had been killed in action.

But the mansion was missing another one of it’s usual occupants too. Pepper. She’d returned from visiting her mother at Christmas a month after the Christmas period had actually finished, with no explanation as to why she’d returned so late, which was so out of character for Ms Pepper ‘organised, responsible and put-together’ Potts that Tony had genuinely thought she’d been abducted and replaced by an imposter. The reality had been worse. Her mother had died just before New Year’s, so Pepper had spent the beginning of the year mourning the loss of her last family member, all alone, which hit a little too close to home for Tony.

So, with memories of a Christmas and New Years spent alone and grieving in the very house he was raising a family in now, he’d sent her home on three months of paid leave. She was supposed to come back in May, but Tony had been calling her daily, just to make sure she wasn’t wallowing in her grief too much (since when did he start caring like this? Normal bosses didn’t check up daily on their assistants, and that was all the woman was to him. His assistant), because he knew from experience that wallowing for extended periods of time spelled a recipe for disaster. She said she wanted to come back to work sooner than May though, because she missed Peter, and she thought it’d be nice to have something else to do. Tony couldn’t lie, he was relieved.

Happy had been his only form of adult interaction in months, other than the guys from Dad’s Group, but often enough they behaved more like children than adults anyway (to be fair, Tony also often acted like a child, so he couldn’t really complain), but Happy had other duties within the company, so he wasn’t available for conversation every hour of the day. 

Thankfully, Peter’s language skills had progressed so far that he was capable of holding a fairly intelligent conversation if he concentrated hard enough. The issue was that he rarely wanted to, and Peter was a stubborn little boy, so he didn’t often do things he didn’t want to do. Honestly, Tony had no idea  _ where _ he got that particular trait from. It certainly couldn’t be him, he was the most mellow fellow around. Must’ve been his mother.

Speaking of Happy… “Harold! I need you to look after Peter for about three hours tomorrow,” Tony called as he rounded the corner and saw Happy building a block tower with Peter. The toddler looked up when his dad entered and grinned, beckoning him towards the huge container which held a conglomeration of wooden blocks. Tony sat next to the boy and started rooting through the container, offering up a few blocks every now and then, which Peter happily accepted and added to his masterpiece with chubby hands.

Meanwhile, Happy had paled drastically. “Me? Look after… Peter? By  _ myself _ ? For  _ three _ hours? Are you  _ mad _ ?”

“Yes, you. I don’t have anyone else I trust enough with my only son’s life.”

“You’re really heaping the pressure on, and it’s not helping-”

“Now, I know you said you wouldn’t babysit him until he’s potty trained, but that shouldn’t be an issue. He’s a potty prodigy, actually. He’ll usually tell you if he’s gotta go, but even if he doesn’t, there are signs you can look out for-”

“That’s not the issue here, Tony. I - just, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course I am. Peter loves you, and you love him, which means you’ll do anything to protect him. That’s my criteria met for a good babysitter.”

Happy sighed, looking like he was about to puke. “I’ll do it, but only because you don’t have any other options. If this goes sideways, and he ends up permanently traumatised, that’s on you.”   


Tony laughed. “Oh, you remind me of my past self.”

~~~

Harold ‘Happy’ Hogan had faced an intoxicated Tony Stark, New York traffic during peak hour and screaming fans (not his own, just for clarification. Happy wasn’t ever going to be anything more than the man standing behind Tony Stark on tv, and he was fine with that. He liked his quiet life and the privacy it afforded) but he’d never been more terrified than he was now.

Tony had left two hours before in a whirlwind of cologne, tailored suits and gelled back hair. Happy hadn’t seen him look so business-like since Peter had been born. He’d become accustomed to the frayed jeans and worn t-shirts that Tony usually only reserved for when he worked in the lab, but had transitioned into once he’d spent a week looking after a messy newborn, who only got messier with age. Tony’s mansion was no longer decorated with sleek, minimalist furniture, but rather, bright plastic toys and baby-proofed corners. 

There was a list of instructions on the bench, which Happy had read through ten times already, and so far, all Peter had done was beg Happy to play with him, and then asked if they could watch Shrek, but he still felt so out of his depth that it wasn’t funny. 

It was like he was a kid all over again, young, dumb, and feeling like he could conquer the deep end of the ‘big kids’ pool at the local swimming center. He hadn’t been able to do it then, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it now. To make matters worse, his eldest sister wasn’t available to drag him back to the shallow end, free of adorable. But it was fine, because he’d made a promise to Tonny, and that man was not only his boss, but his friend. Happy prided himself on his loyalty, so he wasn’t going to let this toddler scare him away from keeping his word.

“Unc’a Hap?” Peter asked from his spot on Happy’s lap. They were two thirds of the way through Shrek, and Happy could have sworn he’d seen the toddler mouthing the lines - Peter had definitely sung along to the Duloc song - and about twenty minutes ago the kid had moved from where he was alternating between playing with a few trains on the elaborate train set he’d been given at Christmas, and watching the movie, to the area next to Happy on the couch, and then eventually, he’d crawled onto the man’s lap. Happy would be lying if he said it hadn’t warmed him to the core.

Peter just had a knack for doing that. He’d won over Tony Stark, the man infamous for having a heart of iron, within seconds, if what Rhodey had told him was accurate, and the rest of the world followed soon after when Peter’s birth was confirmed during that press conference. He had the entire planet wrapped around his tiny finger, and even now, Stark Industries was struggling to keep the many salivating reporters at bay, all of whom wanted to see a glimpse of the heir of Stark Industries. Happy was pretty sure that Tony and Pepper had briefly discussed the pros and cons of doing a short interview on tv with Peter, though they’d decided to wait until he’d at least made it to two years old. According to Pepper, there was a show set to air in September next year which looked promising, but that was still a fair few months away, so Happy returned his attention to the little brown-eyed kid that had just asked him a question.

“What was that, kid?”

“We have Choc’ate cookies?”

Happy laughed. Peter was just like Tony in almost every way, including that he had a bottomless stomach. He seemed a little less impulsive, but the kid had yet to hit puberty so Happy wasn’t holding out hope. “Boy, nothing gets past you, does it?”   
Peter just shook his head proudly.

“What would your dad say about this?”

“Yes!”

“Yes? Are you sure?”

“Yes! Daddy loves choc’ate cookies!”

“Well you’re not wrong there. I suppose so.” Peter cheered, and Happy smiled again. He always did more of that whenever Peter was around and it was exhausting. The kid was just so  _ happy _ all the time, it was hard not to feel the same.

But then he wasn’t so happy, because as Happy stood up, struggling to hold in a groan as his joints popped (man, getting old was not fun), and turned to face the kitchen, there was a thump. A moment of silence, in which Happy’s heart dropped to his stomach and he was pretty sure he ceased to breathe altogether. And then a high-pitched wail. So, so loud, and so,  _ so _ heart wrenching. 

Happy spun around, his heart had rocketed up from his stomach and was now resting in his throat, beating wildly. Peter was lying on the floor, evidently having just tried to get off the couch by himself and failed tremendously. They locked eyes, and, “oh,  _ shit _ .” There was blood dribbling down Peter’s chin and his big brown eyes were tear-filled and staring up at him and…

“Shit, shit,  _ shit _ !”

Okay, he needed to be calm. Cool, calm and collected. That was what Happy needed to be. He’d once guided Tony through a sea of fans at his own expo without getting either of them spotted and he’d barely broken a sweat during that experience. He could do this, all he had to do was take it step by step. And the first step? Comfort the poor kid. 

“Hey, kid, it’s alright. Just a bit of blood. It’s fine, no biggie.” Fuck, he was worse at comforting people than Tony was. But Tony wasn’t here, so he had to try.

He took a deep breath and picked Peter up, pressing the toddler’s head to his shoulder and rocking him gently, just like he’d seen Tony do when Peter was seemingly inconsolable. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s alright. That’s it, kiddo. Uncle Happy’s going to make it all better.” He spoke in soothing tones, half winging it and half drawing on what he’d seen Tony do. It seemed to work though, because soon the cries that shook Peter’s tiny back quietened, reduced to occasional whimpers.

Happy continued to rock Peter side to side as he dug through the kitchen drawer where he knew the first aid kit was kept. He hadn’t even looked at the kid’s injuries yet, that should probably be step two. 

He sat the still-sniffling kid on the countertop, making sure to keep one hand and an eye on him at all times while he fished the first aid kit out. Just by glancing at Peter he could see a purple bruise developing on his chin, and… was that a  _ hole _ in his  _ lip _ ?

_ Well, that explains the blood _ , Happy thought as he tried not to faint. God, Tony was going to  _ kill _ him - he could already hear the lecture that was coming for him.  _ “Great job, Hogan. I leave you alone with my son - the one person in this world that I care about more than myself - for three hours and you manage to screw everything up so badly that he’s now permanently mutilated. Fan-fucking-tastic job.” _

Happy pushed that grim thought out of his mind though, because his first priority was helping Peter, not wallowing in the tongue-lashing he’d get later. Step three: treat the wounds as best he could and then decide on the next course of action, all the while remaining cool, calm and collected. He told himself it was no problem, maybe if he repeated that sentiment often enough he’d actually start to believe it. 

Blood was still running down Peter’s chin, and it had dripped onto the kid’s shirt by now, so Happy grabbed a relatively clean-looking cloth and wet it in the sink. He dabbed at the area with gentle, deft strokes and had to admit, the whole thing looked a little better when it was less murder-scene-esque, but there was still a fucking  _ hole _ in Peter’s lip.

He could guess what had happened: the kid had tried to get off the sofa, it had backfired and he’d fallen. Sometime during that process he’d hit his chin, which had caused him to bite his lip, though if Happy had to guess it was his upper and lower left canines that had done most of the damage. The hole was small, but  _ really _ gross. Happy had never been one for blood, some would even call him squeamish, and he was struggling not to look away, but the cut was still bleeding, so he continued to hold the cloth to it. 

Peter was still crying, but at least he wasn’t making those ear-piercing shrieks anymore. Happy didn’t think he could handle that  _ and _ a bleeding hole in the kid’s lip.

“I wan’ daddy! Daddy!” Peter sobbed, and Happy cursed. He’d forgotten about Tony. Okay, okay, step four: figure out if this is a hospital worthy issue.

“I know, kid, I’ll get your daddy soon. Just let me look at your lip, okay?”

Peter’s chin trembled, and more tears welled up in his eyes, but he nodded nonetheless. “That’s it, you’re being very brave, kid.” 

Happy peeled the cloth off the injured lip, which was starting to swell. There was a sizable patch of blood on the fabric, but the bleeding from the actual wound seemed to have slowed, if not stopped completely. Good, that was good, Happy could work with that. The hole definitely wouldn’t close on it’s own, though he wasn’t sure if it’d need stitches. 

He remembered a kid, Happy thought his name might’ve been Oscar, that’d been in his class back when he was about twelve. He’d tripped over a tent peg while camping and somehow torn his upper lip in half. Oscar had shown up at school with bright blue thread holding his lip together, and Happy hadn’t been able to look at the other kid’s face until it was out - like he said, squeamish. He hadn’t liked the thought of stitches then, and picturing them on Peter now, he liked them even less. A hospital issue then, definitely. 

He scooped up the kid with one arm and moved to his room, where he somehow managed to pack a bag with some of Peter’s toys and a few snacks (hospital food  _ sucked _ ), while still holding the boy in one arm and keeping pressure on his lip-hole. Not a fantastic name for the kid’s wound, but he was  _ stressed _ \- coming up with a nice name for the toddler’s wound wasn’t the thing at the front of his mind. And… shit. Step five: call Tony.

He dug his phone out of his jacket pocket as he jogged towards the garage, opening the car door and throwing the bag inside in one swift motion. If he wasn’t freaking out right now, he’d be impressed by the sudden onset of grace and athleticism that the adrenaline seemed to have brought him.

Happy pressed Tony’s contact and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder so he could use both hands to buckle Peter in.

The man picked up, and Happy said his prayers. “Happy! Hi, I’m on my way back right now. About twenty minutes out.”   


“Don’t bother. Meet me at Scripps.”   


“Scripps as in Scripps Memorial Hospital?” Tony asked, and Happy winced at the panic welling in the man’s voice. He’d always been tactless, but he was pretty sure this took the cake for his biggest fuck up. He wouldn’t be surprised if Tony fired him, which wasn’t fantastic because he really enjoyed this job, even if all his complaints pointed otherwise. 

“Yeah,” Happy grunted as he flopped into the driver’s seat and linked the phone to the car’s bluetooth so he could have both hands on the wheel. He’d be damned if he crashed this car, on top of everything else.

“Why the  _ fuck _ are you going to Scripps?”

“Okay, so I managed to stop the bleeding…”   


“What fucking bleeding, Happy? Is Peter okay? Is he hurt? Tell me what the fuck is wrong?”

“The kid took a fall and I think his tooth went through his lip.”   


“Hang on…  _ through _ ? Holy shit, okay, keep driving, I’ll meet you there.”

The call disconnected and Happy blew out a shaky breath. Tony hadn’t sounded too mad. Mainly just scared shitless, and, well, that wasn’t great either. Maybe his boss was just waiting for Peter to get the all-okay before he blew up at him. 

~~~

Anthony ‘Tony’ Stark had faced greedy businessmen, animalistic press, and his own father, but he’d never been more terrified than he was now.

He’d been driving away from the torturous meeting that Obadiah had forced upon him, finally free of the heavy stares of the old shareholders as they watched him nod along to whatever the hell Obadiah had been talking about and excited to see Peter again. There was an AC/DC disc in the stereo, and Tony was humming along contentedly as he weaved through the lanes on the highway. 

But then Happy had called, and Tony had nearly crashed the car when he heard Happy talking about taking Peter to the  _ hospital _ and  _ blood _ and how his son’s  _ tooth had gone through his lip _ . But, he’d calmed himself down, because Peter needed him, and he couldn’t help the kid if he was halfway down the shitty toilet that was anxiety. 

He’d been able to hear his son’s whimpers in the background of the call and Tony ached, yearned to go to him. To stroke his hair and pepper him with kisses and tell him everything would be okay. So, he’d engaged lead-foot-Tony mode and stomped on the gas, speeding towards the hospital.

By some miracle (or not, because it had only sent him further into a full on freak out), he got there before Happy, and spent the five minutes it took for the man to pull into the car park pacing in front of the hospital entrance. There was so much nervous energy and adrenaline rocketing through his veins, because there were so many things he didn’t know about the situation - too many things. How big was the hole that the tooth had made? Was it a life threatening injury? Would his baby be permanently disfigured? So many questions and he didn’t have the answers for any of them - It was  _ killing _ him.

Happy’s sleek, black car showed up eventually, and Tony was off and running towards it before they’d even stopped, a strange mix of anxiety and relief running through him. Anxiety because he was woefully uninformed on what would happen when the doors opened, and relieved because they were here, so he could finally do something  _ other _ than worry aimlessly.

He tore the door open and found Peter staring up at him with big, watery eyes and a wobbling, inflamed lip. He could see the hole from where he was, and sighed, feeling his racing heart start to calm a little. It wasn’t a huge, gaping mess like he’d imagined, in fact it probably wouldn’t even need stitches. He was still worried, terrified because his baby was upset and hurting, but his life wasn’t at risk. Tony’s entire  _ world _ wasn’t at risk. 

“Hey baby, daddy’s here now,” Tony cooed as he unbuckled Peter from his car seat and scooped him up.

“Daddy,” Peter whimpered, burying his tear-stained face in the billionaire's shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’ve got you now, kiddo. I’ll fix it.”

They hurried into the ER, and stopped at the front desk. His entire life, Tony had been cursing his recognisable face and all the fake niceties that came with it, but sometimes he enjoyed the perks of being famous. Even if people didn’t have time, they made time for him, and he was rarely kept waiting. 

All he had to do was show his face to the tired but efficient receptionist, flash some ID (a request that people always looked hilariously uncomfortable asking for) and sign a form, and then he, Peter and Happy were being ushered to a private room. Tony almost felt bad for all the other people sitting in the plasticy waiting room seats, but a renewed sobbing fit from Peter drew his attention away from them and towards his son.

They had to wait about forty minutes to see a doctor, but it was fine. Tony may have been used to getting instant gratification, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand that there were way more patients than there were staff in this hospital, and some cases just had to take precedence. His kid’s issue wasn’t life threatening, but there was probably someone in here who had one that was.   
Besides, fifteen minutes into their wait, a doctor had popped her head in and informed him that they had nowhere else to send patients, so they were about to get a roommate. It made the wait a little more interesting.

Their new companions turned out to be a little blond kid, about four years old, with a swollen, bloody nose, and his dad. Peter immediately offered the trucks that Happy had had the foresight to bring along (Tony was consistently amazed by that man’s ability to think under pressure, though the ordeal may have scarred him a little. He hadn’t said much since they got inside the hospital), to the boy, which filled Tony with pride - somehow his kid had fantastic manners, a trait that definitely had not come from him. 

The other kid’s father, once he managed to control his shock at the fact he was sharing a hospital room with  _ the _ Tony Stark, didn’t stop talking. But that was okay, because the man was a crack-up, which made him an ideal roommate in Tony’s books, though he wasn’t sure if it was the man’s actual personality or the story that he was telling that made him funny.

Apparently, he’d been playing hide-and-go-seek with his son, when the kid had tripped and fallen face first onto a dish rack. One of the spikes had gone up his nose, causing ‘the most wicked nose-bleed of the century’, according to the dad. It was gross, but the improbability of the situation made Tony laugh.

By the time the doctor showed up, Peter had practically forgotten about the hole in his lip, perfectly content to continue playing with his trucks while she examined him. After a few minutes, she’d confirmed what Tony had thought; it wouldn’t need stitches, but it wouldn't be able to heal on its own either, so they’d have to glue it. 

The doctor disappeared, saying she’d be back with the correct tools and a nurse to help with the procedure. She gave Tony instructions to get Peter on the bed, and somehow in the twenty minutes it took her to get whatever she needed and return, the toddler managed to fall asleep. Apparently, it wasn’t a bad thing, because children, especially little ones, tended to panic when they were surrounded by a team of doctors. 

They were done in ten minutes, the hole glued together and covered by a little bandaid with a cow on it (Peter would  _ love _ it). The other kid waved at Peter as they left, and Peter gave a lazy one in return, struggling not to fall back asleep. 

Tony and Happy left the hospital with a sleepy toddler, instructions to change the bandaid every few days, and not get the wound wet, which might be an issue. Peter was very splashy when he had his baths. 

It was only once they’d settled in the car and had been driving for about twenty minutes that Happy spoke up for the first time since he’d pulled up at the hospital. “I’m… I’m really sorry, boss.”

Tony was genuinely puzzled. “For what?”   


“Peter got hurt under  _ my _ watch.”   


“So what? Do you know how many times that stupid,  _ brilliant _ kid has run into a wall under my watch?”

“But-I…”   


“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”   


“You should be mad at me. Why aren’t you mad at me?”   


“Uh, guilt complex alert. There’s no reason for me to be mad at you - you handled the situation perfectly.”

“Oh, thanks, boss.”

“No, thank  _ you _ . You got Peter where he needed to be when he was hurt.”

If Tony hadn’t known the other man for years, if he hadn’t known Happy was incapable of showing any emotion other than vague grumpiness, he would have thought the man had just blushed. “Oh, it’s, uh, all good. Peter’s okay, wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to the little rat.”

Tony just laughed, hearing the hidden ‘I love Peter’ under Happy’s gruff words. He could join the club,  _ everyone _ loved Peter.

Once they got home, Tony fell onto the couch, exhausted. His son was a piece of work, and he loved him to bits.

“Daddy, look!” Peter cried from where he’d been playing near the TV.

Tony glanced up to see his kid tugging on a wire behind the device, the whole thing tilting dangerously towards his son’s little body. “Peter, no!” He lurched forward, pulling the wire out of Peter’s hand and tugging him away, watching the TV steady itself. “What’d I tell you about going back there, huh?”

Peter looked appropriately chastised. “Issa no-no spot,” he mumbled.

“Exactly. Oh, what am I going to do with you, Pumpkin?”

“Gimme choc’ate cookies?”

The laughter that followed had Tony bending over, wheezing as he struggled to regain his breath.

Good God he loved his kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: a lot of this chapter is based off of true events. I too put my tooth through my lip, but I was eight when it happened, not twenty-months-old, and it didn't happen by falling off of a couch. Also, tent-peg-boy from Happy's childhood is actually a dude from my childhood lmao, and dish-rack-boy is a kid that I shared a room with while I was waiting for my cut to get treated.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that. Please comment, I love it when you guys do that :)


	16. The Terrible Twos Have Arrived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.  
Second last chapter here, wild, I know.  
Hope you enjoy it, and I hope everyone is staying safe right now <3

August 10th 2003

If Tony were being honest, he half expected himself to have given up on being a father by the time Peter turned two.

Of course, he never told that to all the people that had said he would fail. He’d always maintained a semblance of levity when it came to them and their doubts, but the taunts had affected him anyway. Deep down, he’d always thought that he’d break under the watchful eyes of the world. Would the weight of their assumptions be enough to force him to declare that parenting was ‘too hard’ and then hand Peter off to whoever would take him?

But then he’d met the kid, spent time with him, and realised that Peter was his new purpose in life, not that he’d really had one before. And so, ‘Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ had turned into ‘Tony Stark: father extraordinaire’, according to the newspaper Rhodey had dropped into his lap last week. The man was officially on leave from the Air Force - apparently two super-secret, back-to-back missions granted him that right. 

Pepper was also back, and had been for four months. The first day she’d returned, she had almost fooled Tony into thinking she was fine, but then he’d caught her crying over a picture of her mother in the bedroom she stayed in when she wasn’t at her own apartment. He’d made her hot chocolate (not as good as hers by any means, but at least he’d tried, right?) and awkwardly handed her a box of tissues. He wasn’t the best at being ‘understanding’ and ‘empathetic’, so his comforting game wasn’t top-notch by any means, but the fact that he had some idea of what she was going through gave him a small advantage.

Now though, she was “better than ever,” whatever that was supposed to mean - Tony was too tired to untangle it. Peter had moved from a crib to a ‘big boy bed’ and while the terrible thing (or, terrible in Tony’s opinion. Peter  _ loved _ it, mostly because of the cartoon animals that were on the comforter) had rails on it and was relatively low to the ground, Tony was too scared to go to sleep. What if his kid fell off and hurt himself and Tony didn’t know because he was too busy doing something stupid and meaningless like  _ sleeping? _

Nevertheless, he was just glad that Pepper was back, because she was Planner Supreme, and he needed her to be his right-hand-lady for Peter’s birthday - they were going to have a pool party. The kid had gone from being an aquaphobe to a water-baby as the months flew by. 

Tony remembered the days, oh so long ago, when giving the baby a bath had been akin to an olympic sport, and he’d always gotten wet because of all the screaming, kicking, and general unhappiness from Peter. Eventually, his son had gotten used to it, and now loved bathtime. Tony still got wet though, because Peter thought the sound that his hand made when it hit the surface of the water was the best thing since sliced bread (the kid was a  _ big _ fan of bread).

However, his son’s real love of water had appeared when Tony had (upon Pepper’s insistence, for  _ safety reasons _ ) invested in basic swimming lessons for the kid. The instructor came to the mansion once a week and hopped in the pool with Peter while Tony watched, eagle-eyed, from one of the recliners. 

The first lesson had been nerve wracking, but Peter had just looked  _ so cute _ in the little inflatable rings that went around young children’s arms to help them float. The whole thing had been a little pointless, because apparently he wasn’t even old enough to learn the proper strokes yet, so all the instructor did was teach the kid how to stay afloat and tread water, but Peter had still loved it. 

Unfortunately, that meant Tony had needed to install a fence around the pool area in order to stop the toddler from taking any impromptu swims. Peter had graduated from opening baby gates to opening regular doors now, and he was working his way up to sliding doors. He was only able to open the latter around twelve percent of the time, and Tony almost always caught him in the act, but the one time he hadn’t… 

Well, he had jerked the troublesome kid away from the edge of the pool at the last second, and then spent the next forty minutes sitting on the floor, holding Peter tightly. Pepper had found them, and talked Tony through the fist of terror clenched around his heart, as she gently removed Peter from his shaking arms. 

Then he’d spent thirty minutes lying face-down on the floor, because he was dramatic like that. The next day, he’d researched the best pool gates around, and by the end of the week, the pool area was toddler-proof. 

Hence, pool party. It was still warm enough in August, at least in Malibu, and the kid really, really loved water, so it had been an easy decision. All of the other kids from Dad’s Group could swim to some degree, and from what Jacob said, Lacey had a future as an olympic swimmer, though Tony wasn’t sure how much of that came from parental bias. The girl was four now, and Tony still remembered the great Twinkie catastrophe, where she had defied her father and sided with Tony in the belief that the rank little cakes were beneath them. It had been quite the defining moment in their relationship. 

They’d also chosen to be a little calmer with the birthday cake than last year, because the resulting sugar high (and crash) from all the food colouring hadn’t been pleasant to deal with. Tony could only imagine what it would do to a hyperactive two-year-old, with fragile emotions and a tendency for tantrums. 

The cake in the fridge was vanilla, with vanilla icing (chosen by Peter, because his child was  _ bland _ , apparently) and sprinkles. It was a typical cake, and Tony had opted to make it himself, rather than order it from a professional baker. The experience had been a messy one, but Peter had really enjoyed mixing the bowl, and Tony would find any excuse to see that blinding little grin on his son’s face. 

The terrible twos had indeed made an appearance in their household, though Peter technically wasn’t two until ten am. Just yesterday, the kid had had a tantrum because his toy wasn’t lighting up, and while the situation was depressing, Tony didn’t think it necessarily warranted a tantrum. Nevertheless, he’d dealt with it somewhat well. It wasn’t Peter’s first tantrum, but it was one of only a handful, so Tony hadn’t had a lot of practice… yet. 

He’d read more than a few articles on what to do when your child had a tantrum, and the responses had ranged from congratulating them on expressing their emotions, to slapping them for bad behaviour. The latter edged dangerously close to how his own father would have responded to the situation, and if he knew one thing about parenting, it was that doing the opposite of what Howard would do was always the best option. However, he didn’t think that congratulating Peter for stomping his foot and screaming was the best way to go either, so he’d resorted to calmly waiting for the hysterics to finish up, and then asking Peter to tell him what the issue was. 

Usually, the problem was easily fixed, but Tony always listened to the kid, because he wanted Peter to learn from an early age that his dad would always be there to help him with his problems, no matter how silly they may seem to be. A Peter problem was a Tony problem. 

They’d instituted a new morning routine, because Peter had reached the climax of his independent stage. Now, he helped Tony make breakfast (he really just sprinkled the blueberries on top of his daily oatmeal, but whatever worked for the kid), and fed himself. It was a slow process, and so, so messy, but it helped develop Peter’s motor skills, according to Doctor Lantzer.

Once that was all said and done, and Peter had been cleaned of the oatmeal that he’d managed to get on himself during his meal, they went to the kid’s room and he chose his outfit for the day. He liked bright colours and cartoon images on his clothes, so there wasn’t a single plain t-shirt in the kid’s rather extensive closet. 

Peter wasn’t exactly good at choosing his own clothes, because he didn’t understand the concept of matching colours, so he went to Pepper for her opinion. The first time he’d done it, the kid had walked straight past Tony, wearing a rainbow-striped t-shirt paired with green, plaid pants and marched down the hall, with a confused father following him. He’d politely tapped on Pepper’s door, and she’d opened it to find him staring up at her. 

“Opinion?” the kid had asked, doing a little twirl. Pepper had locked eyes with Tony at that point, and he’d shrugged, just as confused as her, and a little offended too. Why hadn’t the kid asked for his opinion? But then he remembered the cerulean suit disaster last month, which Peter had been a witness too, and understood.

Pepper took it in her stride, and knelt down to tug the shirt down a bit where it was scrunched at the front. “Well, I like this, but maybe we could change the pants, hmm?”

Peter had nodded and ran back down the hall to his room, the other two following listlessly.

Now, it was a daily routine, and Tony had almost no part in getting Peter dressed anymore. The only time he was needed was when Peter got the shirt stuck on his head or tripped over his pant leg, which happened rather often. The kid was  _ not _ very graceful.

It was almost scary, in a way. His son had grown from a tiny little baby, to a semi-functioning toddler, and Tony felt like it had been both decades and seconds since he’d first held Peter in the hospital. How strange it all was. The way people just  _ grew _ . He knew, of course, that it was a thing that happened, and he even had a sound understanding of the science behind it, but watching it occur was something else entirely.

He was pulled out of his philosophical and existential thoughts when Peter let out a distressed wail, and Tony looked over to see the kid standing in his underwear (Peter was almost fully potty trained by now, but he still wore diapers at night, just in case), with his arms stuck inside the sleeves of a bright yellow, shark-patterned t-shirt, which was backwards. Oh, Peter. His brilliant, yet stupid son.

“Hey, underoos, need some help?” Tony asked, kneeling in front of the writhing toddler.

“Stuck, daddy. I’m stuck!”

“I can see that,” Tony soothed, pulling the tangled garment off the kid. He glanced at his watch. Nine fifty-three, people would start arriving in seven minutes. “Want to get changed straight into your swimmers, bud?”

Peter perked up, glancing excitedly out his window, where he could see the pool glistening in the bright sunlight. “Pool time?”

“That’s right. Remember when I told you about your party yesterday?”

“Cake and presents and Ned,” Peter affirmed, looking very serious as he recounted the only parts of the conversation that he deemed to be important.

“Good enough. Everyone’s going to show up soon, and you don’t want to greet them in your underwear, do you?”

“Me and Ned could be undie buddies.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want, kiddo? Do you want your legacy to be underwear?” Tony conveniently left out the fact that Peter was definitely going to do  _ something _ in his lifetime that would overshadow the apparent underwear obsession he had obtained.

“No!”

“Okay, so find your swimmers, and get dressed, Pumpkin.”

Peter turned around and ran to his closet and Tony rocked back on his heels. He was feeling substantially less stressed than last year, when he’d nearly bitten Rhodey’s head off for being a crappy Peter-watcher and letting the kid run down to Tony’s lab. Now, he was as cool as a cucumber because, for once, everything was going to plan.

The food was ready on the kitchen bench, the few decorations that Tony had bothered to buy were up (sparkly fish that hung from the ceiling, and a banner that read ‘it’s time to  _ shell _ ebrate!’), and Peter’s presents were stacked on a table, soon to be joined by the masses that the fellas of Dad’s Group would surely bring. 

Everything was in place, and Tony had never thought himself to be lucky before (privileged, definitely, but not lucky), but for now, at least, he was starting to believe that Peter was like some sort of charm for him. When his kid was around, nothing could go wrong.

Peter returned from wherever he’d wandered off to, dressed in an octopus rashie and camo board shorts. 

“Looking good, kiddie. You excited?”   


“Yes!” Peter shrieked, his high-pitched voice ringing in Tony’s ears, yet somehow still endearing. “Are DUM-E and Butterfingers and U gon’ be there?”   
Tony sighed. His son had taken a liking to the bots, and they’d become similarly attached to the boy, but Toy wasn’t enjoying the stress that their relationship brought him. Peter regularly requested to be let into Tony’s lab so he could see them, and JARVIS had once alerted him that the kid had managed to break into his lab by dragging a stool down the stairs to reach the keypad, and then proceeded to plug in the code  _ from memory _ to open the door. Tony had sprinted down to the lab, only to find the kid sitting on the floor, surrounded by the bots and showing them his favorite toy cars. Logically, he knew the bots wouldn’t hurt Peter - they’d shown that they could be surprisingly gentle around his child numerous times - but Tony’s heart still lurched whenever he saw them anywhere near the kid. Sometimes, Peter’s genius scared him, and he was ninety percent sure the kid would stage a coup against him before he reached the age of three. 

“No, the bots will be staying downstairs for this, kid.”

Peter pouted, his bottom lip sticking out adorably, and Tony could see the scar there from months ago, when the kid had face planted onto the floor while trying to get off the couch and ended up putting his tooth through his lip. He’d said it before and he’d say it again, his kid was  _ not _ very graceful. “Why?”

“Cause, Pumpkin, they don’t like water, remember?”

“Oh.” Peter frowned a little, before the chime-like tones of the doorbell rang through the house. The kid grinned, and took off towards the door, yelling “Ned!” as he went.

Tony sighed again as he stood up, ignoring the creaks in his knees. He was pretty sure his lung capacity had increased tenfold since Peter was born due to the endless sighing he did day in and day out. 

He followed Peter down to the entrance hall, where the kid was waiting impatiently at the door. It was one of the few in the house that he couldn’t open by himself (yet), because it was made of oak, and therefore pretty heavy. 

Tony heaved it open, and found the entirety of Dad’s Group staring back at him. “How did all of you guys arrive here at the same time?” He asked. 

“Took the same car, duh,” Marvin answered, from the back, where he was holding an almost-two-year-old Nina. She was a month younger than Peter.

“Huh, fair enough. C’mon in, guys.” He stepped aside, and everyone filtered through, greeting him with various birthday messages. Tony was hit with a sudden sense of deja vu, because he was pretty sure this exact same thing had happened a year ago, on Peter’s first birthday. 

His son had run off upstairs with the other kids, probably to devour the snacks that had been laid out, and Tony ignored the way his stomach twisted. When Peter was out of his sight he always had the constant feeling that something was going to go terribly, horribly wrong. Logically, he knew that Peter was safe (he’d triple-checked that the pool gate was properly closed. There would be exactly zero accidental drownings on Tony’s watch), but he’d learn long ago that love wasn’t the faintest bit logical, so he got used to the feeling and assumed (hoped and prayed) it’d lessen as time went by.

The adults made their own, slow way up the stairs to find the ankle-biters. Life was hard when it was filled with greying hairs and aching joints that probably weren’t supposed to crack the way they did. 

When they reached the living room, they were greeted with a wave of children, all of whom had some kind of party food either in their hands or around their mouths. Happy had obviously caved under the full force of their high-pitched persuasion and puppy dog eyes, and dolled out the food, even though Tony told him not to because they were going to go in the pool first, and everyone knew that little children, partially digested food, and physical activity were a recipe for disaster that no one wanted to see.

It didn’t matter, really, it wasn’t like anyone actually listened to the rule that said to wait forty minutes before swimming after eating - rules were just suggestions, after all. 

Tony remembered the one time his mother and father had taken him to the beach. It was one of the few pleasant memories he had - the way they’d had a picnic while watching the waves break on the shore, eating a ham and cheese sandwich as he dug his toes into the sand, ignoring the pesky seagulls that seemed convinced someone would take pity on them and throw them a fry if they hung around long enough. 

He’d wanted to go in the water right after, but his mother had forced him to wait exactly forty minutes in the blistering sun. There must have been a few reporters around, because Howard had built a sandcastle with him to pass the time, and hadn’t yelled once. 

Peter ran up to him and wrapped himself around Tony’s leg. “Daddy? Can we go in the pool now?”

“Yeah, bud. Have you got your goggles and floaties?”   


“I don’t know,” Peter said, shrugging before running off towards Ned. Always a helpful child, he was.

They made their way outside, and it turned out that both Peter’s goggles and floaties were in the tub that they stored all the pool toys in. The kid was practically vibrating with excitement while Tony blew up the stupid things - why hadn’t they made floaties that stayed permanently inflated? It would save a whole lot of breath. 

He asked Pepper to grab a couple of towels for Peter and him. They’d made a rule, early on, that Peter could not, under any circumstances, go in the pool without an adult accompanying him, and the kid looked to be getting more antsy with each second Tony wasted, so he didn’t think Peter would tolerate being made to wait even longer while his father got the towels.

He slipped the floaties on the kid’s arms, forced the goggles over his head (why did they make goggles so hard to get on squirming children?) and then, finally they were ready. Most of the other kids were already in the water with their parents, bar Connor, who was apparently a little scared of the liquid. Aaron was currently standing in the shallow end and slowly coaxing his boy towards the edge, but the process was painstakingly slow. Ned also wasn’t in yet, but that was because he was waiting for Peter. Henry had raised a good little kid.

“Okay, Petey, you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for ages, daddy,” Peter replied, and… was that an eye roll? Oh God, he really was his father’s son. Tony could practically see himself in the boy, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

“Safety first, you know he rules.”

“Okay, but can we go now?”

Tony nodded, sliding into the pool with a wince. Despite the fact that it was a warm, sunny day, and the water was heated to about seventy degrees fahrenheit, hopping in the pool was always an adjustment. He knew that the worst part was over, and that all he had to do was dunk his head to really get used to the temperature, but it didn’t stop the first few seconds from being ridiculously uncomfortable.

He turned around to where Peter was standing on the edge, and grabbed the kid underneath the armpits, swinging him around a few times before dropping him in the water. It was one of Peter’s favourite ways to get into the pool, topped only by jumping in himself. The kid floated straight up, and as soon as his head broke the surface he started giggling. Ned and Henry hopped in soon after, and even Connor managed to sit on the edge and dangle his feet in the water. Lacey was practising her backstroke, and Tony struggled not to laugh at Jacob. The man had a hand under her back to support her while she practiced kicking and using her arms simultaneously. She was doing well, but she was very vigorous, splashing water everywhere, including into her father’s eyes. Marvin and Ryan were both watching from the middle of the pool, while keeping an eye on their respective children as they tried to float on their backs.

The party lasted for about two hours before it started winding down, but that was the longest you could really expect little kids to last, especially when they were doing a high-energy activity like swimming. 

Sometime during all the chaos, the cake was cut, and Peter nearly burnt himself when he tried to touch the lit candles. The sugar gave the little ones an extra burst of energy before they started to crash again. Presents were doled out and opened before it was too late, and Tony groaned internally when he saw all the new toys that Peter now had, but certainly didn’t need. He’d be cleaning up after the kid even more now.

Speaking of cleaning up, he was regretting having a pool party, because now there were random puddles of water on his living room floor. But at the same time, it was worth it. Peter hadn’t stopped grinning the entire time, and he’d heard more squeals of laughter today than he had the entire week, which was saying something, because Peter was a naturally happy kid.

Just as he waved goodbye to the last of his guests and closed the door, his phone buzzed. Peter was upstairs with Pepper, who was giving him a bath and helping him get changed into dry clothes, and so he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text from Obadiah, saying:  _ I got you six more months. Say happy birthday to Peter for me. _

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. While today had been a good day, there had been a niggling fear in the back of his mind. The worry that he’d have to go back to work now that Peter was two, and leave his son in the hands of Pepper or Happy, or perhaps even worse, _a_ _daycare_. Granted, he’d been privileged enough to have significantly more time off than any normal person would have (the perks of owning your own billion dollar company, he supposed), but he wanted more. More time, more memories, hell, more stress. Give him all of it. Was that selfish of him? He didn’t know, but he wanted to spend as much time with Peter as he possibly could, and Obie had just granted him six more months with his son.

His relationship with the man may never be the same, but he felt a little bit of the resentment he was (possibly unhealthily) fostering, slip away, because Obadiah had just handed him the one thing he wanted more than anything else: another six months of uninterrupted bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll liked it.  
PLEASE comment, I live for it :D


	17. Public Sensation: Peter Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys. THE LAST ONE, and what at trek it has been.  
Tbh, I'm kind of glad it's over, but I'm also going to miss it. This is a big thing, wow, it's kinda just hitting me right now... don't mind me while I have an existential crisis.  
Ok, ok, I'm ok. Uh, the usual spiel about how I hope you like this, but like, twice as powerful because it's the last chapter and I really tried to do it justice.  
This one is inspired by lalagalonthego and NightFall68 cause I've incorporated some of your ideas/requests in this chapter :D  
Also shoutout to ariverofthings - girl was my moral support when I thought my writing was shitty lmao, thanks bro.

February 3rd 2004 

Tony was no stranger to the media. He’d spent his entire life in the spotlight, and it had sucked balls, to put it eloquently. It was something he desperately wanted Peter to be able to avoid, but he knew, reasonably, that it wouldn’t be entirely possible.

He could limit the kid’s exposure to the outside world, he could try and go incognito on the rare occasions they  _ did _ go out in public, but that had only served to incentivise the vultures. It had driven them into a frenzy, and they had taken it upon themselves to feed the public as much information as possible about Tony and Peter, regardless of whether or not it was true. 

Before everything, Tony had accepted that as a fact. He’d accepted that no matter what he did or who he talked to, he would always be painted as the bad guy, the villain in some greater story, and he was fine with that. Being the villain meant no one had any expectations, and he was free to do whatever he wished. For a while, that was just the way that it seemed to go. But then Peter had turned up, and Tony realised that he actually could care for someone other than himself, he realised that he was capable of - dare he say it -  _ love _ . But then the press had started slandering Peter before they ever got a chance to know him, purely because of his last name, and so Tony went through the motions. He introduced Peter to the world, they fell in love, just like he had, just as he had expected them to, but what he didn’t expect was that it’d make them hungry for more. And when the press were hungry, they spun stories and lies to satiate themselves while they waited for the real meal to be served.

He’d once read in a shitty tabloid, that the reason he and Peter were rarely seen outside was because Peter was terminally ill, set to die at any moment. Rationally, Tony knew it wasn’t true, but the rotten anxiety in his head had started asking the dreaded question:  _ what if? _ And his mind had started spinning all sorts of horrifying scenarios, the culmination of them all; Peter, frail and ghostly, lying in a hospital bed with sheets as pale as his bony face, laced with tubes and irreversibly, irrevocably, dying. 

Neither Peter nor Doctor Lantzer had been very impressed when Tony had insisted she do all the necessary tests,  _ just to be sure _ . He needed to be  _ sure _ . Doctor Lantzer had said the whole thing was ridiculous, but had done them anyway, though the glare she fixed him with the entire time had almost made the peace of mind he received from the results not worth it. 

Almost, but not quite, because now he knew for sure that the happy, energetic boy he’d grown so attached to would stay healthy and energetic for a long time to come. Peter was just cranky because the tests had involved needles, and he  _ hated _ needles.

But the ultimate turning point, when Tony had decided that something  _ had _ to be done, was when he found a stupid reporter in his front yard, hiding in a bush with a pair of binoculars trained on the window of his kitchen. That had been insanely creepy, but the man was already getting sued for every miserable dollar he was in possession of by the best lawyers Stark Industries had on payroll. The only positive that had come out of that situation was that he now knew JARVIS’ updated security system worked a treat.

He and Pepper had spent a night brainstorming what to do about the ever-growing issue of the press. Their initial strategy, which involved ignoring it and hoping everyone would calm down, obviously hadn’t worked. It only caused the rumour mill to run faster than ever, which meant they needed to come up with a better plan.

Now, many people had called Tony Stark a genius in his time on Earth - himself included, thanks to his textbook narcissism that may or may not be yet another line of defense to stop the general public from seeing the real Tony Stark - but the art of making logical decisions, and the complex rules of existence had never made any sense to him. 

Pepper, however, was a whiz with all of that. She just had a knack for being able to correctly interpret the happenings of the world. Tony may be able to put a car engine together in under five minutes, but Pepper could deduce people’s intentions and motives after looking at them for a few seconds. The way she understood society was almost scary, but it made her a genius, in Tony’s opinion.

Which was why it was Pepper who did all the research and came to the conclusion that a press conference was the best way to go. They’d briefly considered accepting the invitation for an interview that a TV show had extended to them, but then they’d realised that there was no way Peter would be able to stay still for that long. At least with a press conference, they’d have more control, both over how long it lasted and what questions were asked.

And so, within a week, it was organised, mostly thanks to Pepper’s superb planning skills and the fact that the public were ready to do anything to get a proper glimpse of Peter. Tony wasn’t even a main attraction anymore, and he was simultaneously relieved and a little put-off. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to pretend to be a textbook narcissist all the time, because the eyes would be off of him, but put-off that Peter now had to deal with the cloying press and their stupid cameras.

_ It was for the best _ , he told himself,  _ this will calm them down enough for Peter to lead a normal life for a few more years, hopefully _ . He hoped to God he wasn’t fooling himself.

February 10th 2004

The day of the press conference arrived, and Tony finally took the time to sit down and explain the whole thing to the kid. He’d mentioned it a few times in passing over the last week, but hadn’t yet done anything more than that.

“Hey, kiddie, do you remember me saying something about a press conference?”

Peter nodded, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a little while he concentrated on the legos he was fiddling with. ‘Big kid legos’, as Peter put it, because yes, his kid was so smart he could play with the proper lego bricks, rather than the bigger ones they made for other kids his age. He hadn’t shown the slightest inclination to put them in his mouth, though that didn’t mean Tony wasn’t keeping a close eye on him. 

From the looks of it, he was making a rainbow elephant, and the fact that Tony could actually tell what it was amazed him - it had all the identifying features: big ears, a tusk, a trunk. The kid was just so smart, it amazed Tony.

“Okay, well that’s today. We’re going to go up on a stage, and there’s going to be a lot of people watching us.”

“Like a play?” Peter asked, and Tony chuckled. They’d watched a recording of a ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ play last week, and Peter had loved it. He’d spent the day running around as the giant and pretending to eat his daddy. Maybe Tony was raising a little actor?

“Kind of, buddy, except we don’t have lines. The people are going to ask us questions and we’re going to answer them, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter said, sounding innocently apathetic in the way only a toddler could.

“Now, there are three very important rules that you’ve got to remember, so put down your legos for a bit so I know you’re paying attention.”   
Peter pouted, but placed the bricks down nonetheless.

“Good boy, now, rule number one is that we  _ both _ behave properly. That’s an order from Pepper, so we better listen, eh?” Tony smiled, rubbing a bit of dirt off his son’s nose as Peter giggled. He didn’t actually know how the kid had gotten dirt on his nose - they hadn’t been outside at all today.

“Rule number two, if someone asks you a question that you either don’t want to answer, or don’t know how to answer, you tell me straight away, okay, Pumpkin? That one is very important.”

“Okay, daddy. Are they going to be nice?”

“I hope so, but you can never be sure with these people,” Tony muttered darkly, before inwardly cursing. Peter was curious to a fault, so any second now the kid would rattle off a string of questions.

“Why? Are they mean people? Do you know them, daddy?”...Yep, there it was.

“It’s their job, but sometimes they go a little over the line. They’re just curious like you, Pete. And I do know some of them, but not well. Just by name.”

“Will they know me?”   


“Yeah, kiddie, you’re famous.”

Peter gasped. “Really? Like Sid the Sloth?”

Tony laughed, he couldn’t help it. Sometimes Peter was ridiculously funny, even if he didn’t mean to be. “Yeah, exactly like Sid. But we’re getting distracted. Rule number three, if you want to get out of there, don’t be scared to tell me. We can call the whole thing off and go get ice cream, if you want.” Part of him was hoping Peter would tell him he didn’t want to do it, but they weren’t even at the venue yet. There were still a few hours until the conference started.

“It’s okay, daddy. But can we have ice cream after?”

“Obviously, bud. Neapolitan?”

“Yes!”

“Come on, we need to get some lunch in you before the big conference.”

~~~

An hour later, Peter was fed and bathed, and now Tony was trying to wrangle him into the outfit that Pepper had chosen out the day before. Peter didn’t  _ like _ that though, because he wanted to choose his own clothes, and he was very vocal about that fact. 

“No, daddy! No! I don’t wanna!” the kid screeched, and Tony cringed. He’d managed to get the semi-formal jeans that Pepper had picked out onto the kid, but he’d met unforseen resistance when he picked up the light green, plaid shirt.

No matter, he could do this, it was fine. He was the CEO of a billion-dollar company  _ and _ a parent, negotiation was among one of his most frequently used skill sets. “C’mon bud, please. Pepper approves of it, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t like it!”

“Why?”   


“It’s yucky!”

Tony frowned, looking at the shirt that he was trying to force Peter into. It was a little crinkled, but he didn’t think it was particularly ‘yucky’, as Peter put it. “Okay, fine. If I give you a selection of shirts you can wear, will you get dressed?”

Peter seemed to consider the offer, before nodding, and Tony let out a sigh of relief. Pepper would kill him if he showed up to the press conference with a disgruntled and shirtless child.

In the end, he got both Peter and himself looking very nice, if he did say so himself. Tony was dressed in a grey suit, and there were a pair of sunglasses in the breast pocket of his jacket. Normally, he’d have put them on by now, but Peter didn’t like it when he wore them because it made him look like, “not daddy,” apparently. So, for Peter, he’d try not to put them on, but sometimes he needed a tangible barrier between himself and the press.

The kid was dressed up in a red, button-up shirt (Tony’s tailor had had a lot of fun making an entire closet-worth of formal wear for Peter) and black jeans that could almost pass as proper trousers. He tried to get the kid to wear a little bowtie too, because Pepper had told him the dress code was formal, if he could manage it, or semi-formal if Peter wasn’t co-operating, and also because the kid looked absolutely adorable in the few seconds that he coped with wearing it before he tore it off and screamed bloody murder. He combed Peter’s hair for the first time in a month (the process was so painful for both of them that he tried to avoid it at all costs), and put the kid’s tiny little feet in a pair of faux-leather converse. Just as they were about to leave, he grabbed a blue sweater for his son, because he remembered that it was the middle of February, and still cold.

Halfway to the venue, Peter said, “daddy?” and Tony glanced up from his messages with Pepper, who was asking how far out they were. Happy was driving, so Tony was able to give his son his full attention.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can I give the news people a present?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, kiddie. Where are we going to get a present?”

“I have one already!” Peter chirped, sounding so proud of himself that Tony almost missed the fact that his son had somehow obtained a present. Almost.

“Oh, what is it?”

“My elephant!” Peter replied, pulling the now-finished lego elephant Tony had seen the kid making earlier seemingly from thin air, and Tony did a double-take. 

“Are you sure you want to give that away, Pumpkin? It looks pretty good.”

Peter shrugged. “I can make another one.”

“That’s very true, but there’s going to be a lot of people there, so maybe just choose one person to give it to, or they’ll all fight over who gets to take it home because it’s so well-built.”

“Daddy, stop being condescending,” Peter huffed, stumbling over the long word at the end. Peter was smart, but he was still two, so he struggled with a few things.

Tony gaped. “Kiddie, that’s a big word. Where’d you learn that one?”

“Pepper,” he said simply, and Tony laughed, because  _ of course _ Pepper would teach his kid a word like that, and of course Peter would be able to not only understand it, but use it in the right context.

“Well, okay then, buddy. You can give your elephant to someone.”

Peter just smiled sweetly, and tucked the elephant safely into his lap.

~~~

Soon enough, they pulled into the car park of the large, fancy hall that Stark Industries had constructed specifically for press conferences. It was already packed, and Tony could see camera crews and reporters milling around the entrance like a gang of evil little bugs.

Happy took them around to the back, out of sight of the press, and Pepper ushered them inside, congratulating Happy on getting them there on time. Tony almost took offence, but then he remembered the time he’d shown up three hours late, hungover and wearing a woman’s nightgown to a meeting with the president, and conceded that Pepper may have a point.

After that, it was just a whole lot of waiting. Waiting for everyone to get situated outside, waiting for Pepper to finish briefing him on all the different news stations out there, waiting for Peter to finish the muesli bar he’d asked for and then decided he didn’t want. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

But then, Pepper was telling him that it was time for him and Peter to go out and start the press conference, and he wished that there had been more waiting. His son seemed pretty eager to get out there though, and Tony reluctantly allowed the little boy to grab his hand and pull him through the doors.

Almost immediately, they were hit by a wall of sound and light, intense enough to make Peter falter and turn towards Tony in alarm. The man put a hand on his son’s head to calm him, and walked calmly towards the podium. He picked Peter up when he reached it, because the kid was getting more and more nervous by the second, and propped him on his hip, where the kid promptly buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. 

People were yelling and snapping photos, the glare of the flash on their cameras almost too much to bear, and Tony’s fingers itched to grab the sunglasses in his breast pocket, but Peter needed all the reassurance he could get at the moment, so he’d resist for now. For Peter. 

It was at times like these that Tony relished in his ability to control a room with a single action, because when he raised his hand, a hush fell over the crowd. “Some of you may have been here for my last press conference with Peter, and the same rules apply. My kid has explicit instructions to tell me if he doesn’t like something you do, and if he does, you can bet your asses this whole shebang is getting cancelled faster than you can say ‘but just one more question!’ Capiche?”

There was a murmur of assent, and Tony took that as his que to continue. “You guys know how this works. Hit me.”

A slew of hands shot up, and Tony briefly felt like a school teacher. “You, with the orange scarf,” he said, nodding towards the woman in question.

“Are we allowed to ask Peter questions?”

Tony turned to Peter. “Do you want to answer their questions, Pumpkin?” He asked, quietly enough that only his son would hear.

Peter nodded, peeking out shyly from where his face was smooshed into Tony’s chest. There was a quiet, “awwwww,” from the crowd, and Tony smiled. He always loved it when people fell in love with his son as quickly as he had.

“Alright, bud. Remember, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to,” Tony said, before turning to the sea of reporters. “Peter’s alright with it, but don’t you dare ask anything remotely inappropriate or weird.”

The lady with the orange scarf spoke up again. “Peter, what’s it like having Tony Stark as your daddy?” she asked, the patronisation coating her words so thickly that Tony had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Apparently, the world didn’t know that Peter was a budding genius. That wouldn’t be the case for long.

“Uh, my daddy is silly. We watch Shrek a lot, but sometimes Ice Age,” Peter said, his voice high and clear, easily picked up by the high-quality microphone on the podium in front of him.

Tony watched as each and every person in the room took a mental step back, evidently not expecting Peter to be able to talk so well. He grinned.

“Mr Stark, how old is Peter?” a man with a jauntily-perched fedora asked. Tony knew this guy - he’d written a particularly nasty article about him four years ago. Tony Stark never forgot, and only sometimes forgave, which was why he took devilish pleasure in his snarky answer.

“He’s two-and-a-half, did you not do any research before you rocked up here, Ronald?”

“I-I did, he just… talks so well.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “He’s my son, what’d you expect?”

Ronald backed down, and another man wearing a Hawaiian shirt spoke up. “Mr Stark! What have you learnt about Peter since we last heard from you?”   


“Well, my kid is brilliant - he’s got a big brain inside that adorable little head of his. He figured out how to open the baby gates I installed before he reached two years of age, even though the box promised me they’d last until he was three, and he has the vocabulary of a five-year-old, according to his doctor. But he’s also as funny as anything, and the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet. He’s got a little flair for the dramatic too, which is absolutely shocking. I haven’t the faintest idea where he got it from,” Tony joked, earning himself a laugh from the crowd.

There was a tug at his collar, and Tony looked down to see Peter beckoning him to lean down. Tony did, and Peter whispered, “daddy, can I give the lady with the flower in her hair my elephant?”

Tony chuckled. He’d forgotten about that, and it’d only serve to prove his point about Peter being the sweetest kid one could ever have the pleasure of meeting. “Ok, Pumpkin, want me to go with you?” he said as he crouched to put Peter down.

“No, it’s ok,” the little boy answered distractedly, already peering over at the lady. Tony nodded and straightened out Peter’s shirt before sending him on his way with a little pat on his back.

When he stood up again, the entire crowd had frozen in apprehension, and he realised that they probably thought Peter was uncomfortable and that Tony was going to call off the conference. “Don’t worry, he just wants to give someone a present. He made it himself.”

All eyes in the room turned to the little boy who was toddling his way over to the lady with the flower in her hair.

“I like your flower. It’s pretty,” Peter said as he offered up his elephant. Tony could physically see the lady, who had looked rather nervous while Peter approached, melt at the kid’s words.

“Aw, thank you, hun. This is really cool!” She said, and Tony knew that she, along with the rest of the room, were completely enamoured with the boy, who was already making his way back to his dad. 

“Peter, did you make that elephant yourself?” A woman with a blonde pixie cut and dark glasses asked, sticking her voice-recorder right up in Peter’s face.

Tony bristled, ready to run down and scoop his kid up and away from the woman, but his kid handled the violation of his personal space with a surprising amount of grace. “Yes, but daddy bought the pieces,” he answered, which earned him a round of laughter from the crowd.

Once Peter was re-situated on Tony’s hip, the questions started back up again, and lasted for almost an hour, ranging from light and breezy questions like, “Peter, what’s your favourite colour?” (purple, at the moment), to deep, and frankly terrifying questions like, “Mr Stark, do you ever wonder what you did to get such a good kid?” (he’d said “no”, purely because he wanted to maintain some semblance of the narcissistic facade he’d created, but the real answer was, “every single goddamn day”). 

In the last twenty minutes, Tony felt Peter getting more and more restless, shifting his position on Tony’s hip frequently, and pulling at the collar of his shirt. Eventually he tapped his dad’s cheek and requested that they go get ice cream. The entire room had heard, and immediately burst into yet another round of laughter, which saved Tony from having to come up with a proper reason as to why they were leaving. 

He could still hear the laughter as they crossed the threshold of the building and stepped out into the weak rays of the setting sun. Pepper was grinning, and she held her arms out for Peter, who readily gave her a big hug.

“You were great, sweetie,” Pepper said to Peter, who smiled happily. “You too, Tony. There’s pictures plastered everywhere of Peter giving his elephant to that woman, and a really nice close-up of you and Peter, which I’m definitely printing out and framing, by the way.”

Tony smiled fondly. “Make sure to print a second copy for my lab.”

“Of course, who do you take me for?”

“A really, really great assistant,” Tony replied, taking Peter back from the woman, who was going to stay behind for a while to make sure the conclusion of the press conference went smoothly. He got into the car that Happy had brought round to pick them up in, and asked the man to take them home. He owed Peter some ice cream.

~~~

They spent the night in their PJ’s, eating copious amounts of Neapolitan ice cream, and showing Peter the Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie for the first time. It was almost like the happy ending that Tony had been searching for since… forever, but apparently whoever was in charge of the universe couldn’t grant Tony that just yet.

That was why, sometime after midnight, he was awoken by a little hand tugging on his hair. “Daddy. Daddy, wake up.”

Tony groaned and cracked one eye open, switching on the light that stood on his bedside table. Bad idea. Very big mistake. He was blind, oh so blind, and the pain was excruciating, enough to make his eyes to water. 

“Daddy, please,” a voice sobbed, and it was the sob that finally got his attention, because that was Peter’s voice, and his kid should never be sobbing.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Tony crooned, bringing out the sappy nicknames that he usually kept under wraps. He cupped his son’s face, which was damp from tears. Peter took a shuddering breath and started crying in earnest, so Tony scooped him up and held him to his chest, rocking his kid’s shaking form gently. “What’s wrong, bubba? Did you have a nightmare?”

Peter just whimpered, and Tony took that as confirmation, his mind running through everything traumatic Peter had ever been through to try and figure out the cause. His mind landed on the most recent event - the press conference. True, it hadn’t been as bad as Tony had imagined it would be, but maybe Peter was just really good at hiding how scared he was, which was a horrifying thought. Had he permanently scarred his son by kind of forcing him into the whole thing?

“What was it about, Pumpkin? Can I fix it?”

“There were... there were bears in the Chamber of Secrets, daddy!” Peter heaved in one big breath, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from arching an eyebrow. The Chamber of Secrets, he could understand - they’d just finished the movie - and maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to let his two-year-old-son watch it, but bears? Where had they come from?

“Aw, bubba, it’s okay. Do you want to sleep with daddy tonight?” 

Peter nodded again, his face still buried in Tony’s chest and clinging to him like a koala. It would be cute, if he couldn’t feel the kid’s tears soaking into his sleepshirt.

Tony shuffled down under the sheets, and Peter curled up next to him. Tony tried not to wince as the kid’s cold little toes dug into his thigh, and he started rubbing Peter’s back up and down in a soothing pattern.

Soon enough, Peter’s breathing evened out, and his tense muscles relaxed. Tony realised then, with Peter in his arms and a lightness in his heart that hadn’t been there for so long, that he’d found his happy ending. He’d found his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. The end. The actual end.  
Almost can't believe it.  
Thinking about doing a sequel that's basically the MCU but like, how it would have gone if Peter was Tony's biological son? Whatever, if I do end up doing that, it won't be soon cause i need a big fat BREAK guys.  
Hope ya'll are staying safe right now, and thank you for your support throughout all of this, it's been incredible :D

**Author's Note:**

> So that's that. There will be more chapters coming, but if you guys have any requests feel free to send them in because this fic has NO plot lol.  
If anyone knows any other fics like this then please comment their names, I love reading them.  
So yeah, feel free to leave a kudos or comment, but other than that... toodles!


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